


Borrowed Time

by ColoredSunDay



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Magic, Redemption, Romance, Sacrifice, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColoredSunDay/pseuds/ColoredSunDay
Summary: “Every start has an end.”That night, Aerin Song decided to die.There was no turning back. There was no room for hesitation. There was nothing that could stop her. Absolutely nothing.But fate had other plans.And it always gets what it wants.Always.“Love on borrowed time, will never be yours nor mine.”When those doors opened that night, and that girl fell on his arms. The swinging of his fate changed its course. At first all he wanted to do was save her. Like he always did. Like he always would.But the heart has a mind of its own, and after centuries, his started beating again.Beating for someone.But, his secrets, his truth, will not allow this love.And therefore, he must choose.Will he continue living his life in a lie?Or will he do what is right?Sacrifice.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> *May contain descriptions of emotions and events that may trigger reactions.  
**Highly based on The Ancient Magus' Bride 3 episode OVA "Those Awaiting a Star"

**AERIN  
** _Yuki's grave; Year 2018_

There’s nothing in my chest.  
It’s hollow.  
I could feel the emptiness gnawing deeper, wider. My breath was paced. My hands were still, unlike before.  
My eyes saw everything clearly, slowly. My mind, although blank, registered every bit of detail.  
It kind of knew, just knew, what was happening, and what was going to happen. 

_Is this peace?_ I thought to myself, like a child, encountering the word for the first time.  
Or maybe it really was the first.

I knew nothing of peace.  
My life was everything but peaceful. 

My hands tightened around the wooden hilt that rested on my right.  
My eyes fixed on the blade reflecting the moonlight.

Tonight, I’m out for revenge.  
Revenge on the world.  
Revenge on myself.

> _I have had enough._

I stood over the grave of the last living testament of hope in my life.  
Hope I buried with my very own hands.  
Hope.  
I buried.  
With my very own hands. 

My courage, Yuki. 

It’s time to end this. Eternally. Finally.  
I deserve it right?  
This?  
I’ve suffered way more than necessary.  
I’ve experienced pain more than my heart and soul could carry.  
No one.  
NO ONE was ever there for me.  
Not one. 

In the end, all I had was myself.  
And even I hated me.  
I despised me.  
I loathed me.  
I was disgusted by me.  
But the only one I had was me.  
And for this job, there’s no better fit than myself. 

I had to do this. _It’s time._

As the cold kiss of the stainless steel caressed my neck, memories started flooding in.  
Was I scared? Was this me reviewing everything before the final test?  
Cold sweat started running down my face as the vividness of the memories engulfed me.  
I was overwhelmed.  
The images were too clear to remember. My breath hastened.  
I remember.

> _I remember too well._

I remember my mom.  
Oh, how beautiful she was. With her auburn hair that always prettily reflected the sun. That swayed along with the swift puffs of air. I remember her, broken and sad. I remember as she chugged alcohol every single night trying to drown the pain. But she couldn’t mask it. Not the pain of being abandoned.  
Not that.

> _Little did she know she wasn’t alone._

I remember a child, curious yet lost. Who received every abuse from her mother. Who received every blow from her “friends”. She grew up bullied, shamed and forlorn. Her only sin back then was to be born from a forbidden relationship.

> _The daughter of a whore._

I remember that as her mother drowned her pain in alcohol, that child, on the other hand, sought comfort on that swift slicing of blade and flesh. Of pain drowned by another. Pain in a more controlled form.

I remember her growing up.  
A kid in long sleeves even in the summer.  
Alone, betrayed. Her only friend, a retriever she retrieved from the streets.  
When she had absolutely no one, she turned to a dog for comfort.  
Pityful. Weak.  
A rightful laughing stock.  
Yet she took it all. She swallowed the pain, hard.  
I remember her, keeping herself from breaking down. Even as she tiptoed across the narrow edge of life.  
I remember her growing up, thinking of death almost everyday.  
Yet still living. Holding on. A corpse with life.  
Me. 

Again, I remember my mom.

That day.  
I remember just as I opened the door, how the silhouette of my mother standing in the porch against the morning light welcomed me. I just got back from buying ingredients for breakfast. I remember the argument she and I had that morning. I remember every word I uttered to her. I went grocery shopping to make up for it. I remember the menu I planned to cook, the amount I spent and just how many coins were there in the change.  
I.... I remember how her hair swayed along with the breeze.  
I remember thinking it was beautiful.  
I remember how it flowed down, against the light, like ink poured on a stream of water, as she jumped off the railing and plummeted down. 

I remember the loud thud left by the contact of human to concrete.  
I remember dropping everything I held.  
I remember running, just running, those flights of stairs like it was nothing.  
I remember the heat of the concrete creeping in my soles.  
I remember immediately spotting her body.  
I remember coming close.

I remember onlookers who watched and some who called for help.  
I remember the pool of blood that formed.  
I remember calling out her name.  
I remember not getting an answer back.

> _I remember everything._

But most of all, I remember the look on her face as life left her.  
It haunts me.  
Still.  
In every living moment. 

> _Another memory._

There was me, on the floor, weeks before my mother took her life.  
It’s too vividly etched in my brain.  
That night still feels real even now. 

There was a typhoon that just recently hit land.  
The sky exploded with the duet of thunder and lightning.  
It was pouring. Hard enough to render me voiceless even when my throat bled from excessive desperate screaming.  
I remember the cold hands that kept me in place.  
The lifeless eyes, that I knew, staring down at me.  
I remember myself drowning in adrenaline as I tried to fight.  
I remember breaking free.  
I remember the cold slap of the floor on my bare feet as I ran to safety.  
I remember feeling the brief hope pulled mercilessly away from me as I was caught by the hair and pushed down.  
I remember seeing eyes, watching me from a distance, hidden, safe, scared.  
I remember reaching out, asking for help.  
It never came.  
I remember feeling so disgusted, with the world, with myself, with everything.  
That moment, I wanted to just...... die.  
What he was doing to me. What he was trying to do to me. Didn’t matter anymore.  
I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to disappear.  
My brain was on fire. My mind in haywire.  
The last thing I remember was the blankness characterized by the sudden peace, the magnificent flash, and tremor of the duet of lightning and thunder.  
Then there was nothing.  
The next thing I knew was when I woke up, my fate turned to worst. 

> _I became not just the daughter of a whore.  
__But also the daughter of a murderer._

A drizzle of rain brought me back to reality.  
I was still standing over Yuki's grave, with a knife pointed to my throat, waiting to pierce my skin.  
I drew a deep breath, said my last prayers dedicated to no one.  
There's no saving me now.  
I don't need saving now.  
I just.... want to end everything.  
End me.

With one push and a pull to the right, I felt the knife open my skin.  
Blood poured down my neck in a warm waterfall.  
With my remaining strength, I laid down beside Yuki's grave and waited for it.  
Death.


	2. PAGE 1

** Unnamed  
** _A Battlefield; Year ****_

The world was filled with the sound of an explosion.  
Everywhere and anywhere he looked his allies were being shot down right before his eyes.  
He knew in his heart that he was next, but still, he pushed on.  
With every last bit of courage he could muster, he charged forward.  
But with a single _‘bang’_ that echoed too close, he felt his whole body weaken.  
In slow motion, he watched as the earth pulled him while his body turned stiff.  
Then there was nothing but black, absence and peace.

The next thing he knew was that he was running.  
Through the thickness of the forest, he ran.  
Just ran.  
His left arm hang lifelessly on his side as the bullet barely missed his heart but punched its way through his body.  
Still, he was not dead, and therefore, he ran.  
He was losing blood, a lot. And fast.  
His eyes were getting foggier every second.  
“I will not die here.” He muttered to himself, repeatedly, as if a mantra. “I will not die here.” 

He was losing consciousness.  
He needed help.  
He wanted help.  
Therefore he ran, harder this time.  
Faster.  
More desperate.  
He went deeper and deeper into the forest praying that allies will cross his path.  
He went deeper and even deeper.

Eventually, his legs gave out, and again he was lying helplessly God knows where.  
But, as if on cue, lights went on just from a distance from where he lay.  
He looked at the direction of the source but he couldn’t identify it.  
Weak and groggy, he pulled himself up and walked towards the warmth of the unknown light.  
Of an apparent hope.  
He drew closer and closer to it. He came close enough to recognize the shape of a door.  
It was unlocked.  
He pushed it open, took a step inside and collapsed. He lost too much blood.

With his last possible breath, he muttered, “Help!” But his voice only drowned through the empty halls.  
And as he closed his eyes, in utter defeat to fate, the door behind him shut close and the locks bolted right up.

_ Unknown; Present Day _

_It’s been a while,_ he thought, since that memory visited him again in a dream. How many years have passed since then?  
What happened back then, what happened that day, what he thought was the hardest his life could offer, meant nothing when compared to the things he had to do after he woke up here.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes. It was dusk now. He probably must’ve fallen asleep while reading up on other horticulture tips on growing a hibiscus plant. He accidentally glanced by one book that claimed hibiscus tea is delicious. And he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Well, there was nothing else really, there was nothing he else could do, nothing else he could think of.. here, in this place. 

He put the book he was cuddling in his sleep along with the others that cluttered on the carpet. This new hobby of his, he can’t help but wonder until when will this continue. He took the books in his arms and carried them back to their shelves. The night was pulling in, and the interior began to dim.

In an instant, the room was lit in different colors, as orbs of light freely floated across the building - bouncing against the walls, against each other. Some were trapped in lamps and were held in place, lighting up the reading areas and the private rooms. Every night, they gave life to this massive building of books. But not to him.

He saw and learned more than he needed to. He already witnessed and memorized where the orbs would move and where they were headed as they bounced off of obstacles. He knew what color the stationary lights would take after some time. Everything, after a few years or so, would be a detectable routine.  
There was nothing new.

_Even magic loses it’s effect on people when you’ve seen the routine far too many times._ That's what he thought.

Everything was just as it was.  
And maybe it will always be as it is. 

After replacing all the books, he went up the stairs to the landing.  
There sat five pedestals carrying a wooden sculpture on each, except the one in the middle.

"It's starting." He said, almost like he was talking to them. "I can feel it creeping in."

The wooden sculptures gave him no answer. Not that he was expecting any, but still he continued. "That cold gripping feeling that made me lose myself. It's back."

He leaned into the empty pedestal, steadying himself. "I don't want to go through that again. I don't want anyone to do that for me again."

He grabbed the hem of his shirt. "I hope that this time it ends with just me. Just me."

His words hang over the still air, carrying his conviction, carrying his will.

For years, and years he pondered upon this dilemma. What will he do when 'that' time comes again? What will he do in order to sate 'that' again? He only arrived at one answer, _I'm better off here alone. _

When he first woke up in this place, he thought he was living in paradise. It was a place that offered comfort, knowledge, wisdom, and especially, peace. It was an escape from the world he was just in. He slept without being lulled by the murmur of others like him, praying to deities that they may survive another day. He wasn't awakened by the sound of an enemy war cry, or an explosion nearby. He didn't have to lie down in bed with a pistol in his bedside, and a knife under his stone-like pillow. He didn't have to fear for his life every single second. There was no reason to doubt staying here. Everything was provided, every basic need is accounted for. He only had to stay.

He didn't know it was his only choice.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard that small metal click.  
The unlatching of the locks of the main door.  
He stared at the inner door for a moment, questioning if maybe he was only imagining things.  
But, his doubts were pushed away when the sound of the main doors swinging open echoed through the building.  
He jumped up to his feet and rushed up the stairs.

He looked past the glass panels of the inner door, separating the vestibule from the interior of the building. The main double doors were wide open. The rain was getting in, flooding the vestibule floor. He looked closer but saw no one in there, not in the doorway nor inside the vestibule.  
Thunders flushed and what he saw next, made the hair on his spine stand.  
On the glass panel of the inner door, was a bloody hand impression.

He came closer, taking a peek at what may lay there in the vestibule.  
There wasn't anyone there when he looked earlier, but the bloody hand on the glass suggested otherwise.  
His heart made a leap when the main doors closed and bolted on its own, but it gave out entirely when a girl suddenly appeared slamming her fist on the glass door.  
He fell to the floor.

"HELP HER!" The girl screamed with a voice that wasn't her own.

He stared for a second, stunned and scared. What he saw right then and there, was like the tales his last visitor told him. A bloody girl with hair drenched in rain, her clothes painted in her own blood, screaming with a voice that isn't her own. Those were stories, this was not. This was not. _THIS WAS NOT!_ He immediately collected himself and opened the door, catching the girl in his arms as she stumbled forward.

One look and he knew she was in grave danger.  
There was a slice in her neck, it wasn't deep enough but it cut through the important places, and she has bled for too long.  
Her clothes, her hair- which he thought was only drenched in rain - were all stained with her blood.  
There were dried stains, but a lot were still fresh, blood that flowed from her wound and diluted by the storm.

She was panting, and with every heave, blood escaped her neck. She felt cold in his arms, not just from being soaked, but her temperature was starting to drop. _This is bad. _He knew too far by experience that a body growing cold needed to be treated, fast.  
He wondered how a girl with this kind of injury, carry herself to this place. How did she even find her way here? And why was she referring to herself like she was someone else when she was the one needing help?

He looked at the girl's eyes. There’s the answer he needed. They were black.

"Help her. Please" The girl pleaded. No, it was not her. It was something else. Someone else, "Help her, please."

He couldn't believe it.  
This girl was possessed.

"Why'd you bring her here?" He asked. "If you release her now, you'll be trapped. A spirit that enters here, can never go back."

The spirit shook the girl's head. "I don't care. Just save her. Please. Save her."

He stayed silent for a moment, thinking. He agreed with a simple nod and laid the girl carefully on the wooden floor. "I'll go get supplies. I need to stitch her wound and I need you to hold her down. It's not gonna feel pleasant." He said addressing the spirit.

He rushed into a room for supplies. Leaving the girl by herself with the spirit who took hold of her body and brought her here. He didn't know what kind of treatment the world outside this place presently gave, and he didn't have time to think or study about it either.

He grabbed the first aid kit he kept for emergencies of the same circumstances he came upon this place. A kit he prepared but never dreamed of using. He never wished for someone to go through the same fate he went through. But one true fact about the world is that war is inevitable. And there will always be people like him. And people who'll go through worse.

Laying everything he needed on the space beside the girl, he immediately went to work. He threaded the needle and looked at the girl, or the spirit rather. "You need to hold her down." He told it and inserted the needle on her skin.

The building trembled from the unworldly scream as both the girl and the spirit bellowed in pain. Her body shook in response to the needle and the thread entering her skin, and the spirit trying to suppress her jerks. The needle made it's way, closing her wound, with the untrained impromptu surgeon's lead.

He didn't let her reaction faze him, his focus was to stop the bleeding immediately. Her blood loss will be dealt with after. He moved with precision, just like how it was said in a book, just like how he practiced. It wasn't long until he tied the final knot.

"Done." He declared triumphantly, catching his breath.

She was staring at him. Too exhausted to voice out the _'thanks'_ she was mouthing.

He wiped the blood from his hands. "I need to do something about her blood loss. But, you need to release her for it to take effect."

The spirit nodded with the girl's head. "You can't die Aerin. Not yet." The spirit said, with the last of its strength, before releasing the poor girl to the stranger's hands and to fate.


	3. PAGE 2

_Unnamed; Present Day_

The rays of the sun shining through the stained glass windows painted the interior an abstract. The wooden building glowed with a humble light, masking the darkness of the wood. He took the view in. Registering every detail. It was one of the habits he brought with him from the war, knowing your enemy and familiarizing the battleground.  
Even after living here all these years, he still felt the need to rememorize its interior.  
Believing nothing about what he sees, but also sticking to the reality in front of him.

Up until now, he could only still marvel at the magic of this place.  
There's not one word else that can describe it better.  
And living here made him realize, how painfully grave that façade of a beautiful word is.  
_Magic._

The aroma of freshly brewed hibiscus tea engulfed his nostrils. He couldn't help but compliment himself for the quality of today's brew. It took time to learn and cultivate, but his efforts were rewarded. He raised the teacup and inhaled the sweet aroma once more. Letting the soothing scent calm his brain, control the racing just a little. His thoughts have been working themselves out these days. But today, he let himself surrender in the flow. He needed a break. A time to sort all the mess. And tea. Sweet, fragrant, delicious tea. 

"It’s been a long time." He said, sipping the floral brew. His eyes darted to the now-empty vestibule, sparkling from a shower of broken glass. The stench of blood was still strong in there. He wasn’t bothered by it. But he hasn’t smelled or seen that much blood since the war, and that was a long time ago. A really, long time ago.

“A really, long time.”

His words hurt no one else but himself.  
The nostalgia from those two words combined - long, time - flooded his chest in a tsunami.  
There was no way for him to know the exact time in this place. So his only measure was ‘feeling’.  
In the past, he would keep track of the days by counting the sunrise. Or he would lay back down on the floor, stare at the ceiling and count the passing seconds. Counting along every beat of his heart. But then, he stopped.

For every day more that he spent alone. For every additional reminder as he adds a line in his tally. He felt like he was ripping his chest open voluntarily. The pain, the emptiness, the silence. It was too much for him to bear.  
Keeping track was nothing more than a constant reminder that he was alone.  
With nothing to look forward to.  
Waking up to another day, hoping, praying. For something. Then nothing. Always nothing.  
So he stopped.  
He didn't need to be reminded.  
Every waking moment, hearing the gripping, roaring stillness followed by screams of nothing, was more than enough.

But that changed a week ago when that girl came through those doors. Finally, he wasn’t alone anymore. When she passed through those doors and fell in his arms, bathed in her blood, looking like she came out from one of those books he kept on the lower shelves (Yes, he reserved a section for those. A section he doesn’t visit). He couldn’t deny being flushed with a sense of relief and happiness. He never knew the thirst he had for a companion that he kept down, tamed and bottled up, all through these years would come out bursting at once when she came. 

But when a curve formed at the edges of his lips, forming a smile, his insides twisted and turned. The fact that he was happy. The fact that he felt relieved. That scared him. It scared him too much.

It's been years since he last saw another human being. Years more of wanting to end the loneliness. And more still of wishing no one would come and cross those double doors. There was so much at stake for living in paradise. Even Adam and Eve had to pay a price for it. Though they were driven out in the end.

The sweet tea now tasted bitter in his tongue. If he wants to help the girl, like he claims to, as he promised, he needs to drive her out. Soon.

He set his now empty teacup on the reception desk. His mind became more restless than before. The tea's effect was ephemeral. The clutter of books on the floor and the shattered glass in the vestibule weren't helping him clear his brain either. It's been 3 days since the girl gained consciousness, and not a single day has passed since then that she hasn't tried escaping from here. Creating a mess in her wake.

She broke the glass of the inner doors, only for it to regain form in a matter of seconds. She made a mess of the books, trying to locate a secret passageway out. He didn’t even know where she got that idea. He tried to get through to her, explain her situation just a bit. But every time he approaches, her mind would instantly shut down and her every sense focused on one thing, protecting herself.

Fear, she was cloaked and breathing in fear. He told himself.

He could still clearly recall the day she woke up. Back then, he was applying honey to her neck. Soaking the open wound with the viscous liquid to help it heal and also prevent infection. It was one of the few treatments he had in this place. One which proved to be more effective. He was about halfway through the gash when she gained consciousness. At first, he didn't notice, but her muscles tensed abnormally, visibly contracting through her skin. And when he looked up, he caught her eyes open. Staring at him, fear conquering it.

They froze in horror as she realized where his hand was. She slapped it away and backed off in one motion. Her eyes never leaving him. Her body relentlessly shaking. She kept her guard up, as she moved farther away from him. Her whole body flinched when she reached the wall.

She didn't scream, and aside from slapping his hand away, she didn't react violently to him.  
She just, shrunk into herself, petrified.

He was at a loss for words. This place, he, has welcomed visitors before - souls who lost their purpose, souls who lost their meaning, souls who went on first before their physical bodies. But not one like her. A soul so scarred and broken, a soul that has given up, a soul that wants to leave, but still a soul that is still being held on together, not by itself, but by something else entirely.

She was the first. An enigma. A paradox. 

He contemplated what to do next. As much as he wanted her out, he first needs to help her heal from her injury. _Injuries!_ He corrected himself. As he was cleaning out the dried blood from her neck, he saw scars underneath the gash. Scars of different lengths and depth, stretching from different directions. He recognized that those scars didn't come from any tool, it was inflicted there by her own fingers.

He pulled the sleeve of her shirt upwards, revealing her wrists. A gut feeling told him that he should look underneath there too, and he was not mistaken. Scars stretched from her wrist up to her elbows, and maybe even up to her shoulders. But, he didn't dare continue to look. He'd seen enough.

His heart broke a little for the girl as he covered her scars back with the sleeve. "We fight our wars, do we?" He said as he continued to clean up the area around her wound.

It's been 3 days since then. 3 days since she started trashing up the place looking for a way out, secretly, not knowing he could hear everything. 3 days since her failed attempt in ending her misery. 3 days since, and she hasn't cried once.  
Not once.

Everything about her demeanor - the way she utters her words in a calm and collected manner, while her whole body tensed up, fearing his presence, frightened by him and his actions - flooded him with a sense of irritation mixed curiosity. He didn't like it, not one bit. But he wasn't someone to intrude. He didn't know her, she didn't know him. And some lines aren't supposed to be crossed, just because you have questions that needed to be answered. His mind wandered with the building irritation. 

He turned his attention to her, sitting beside the window, staring at the outgrowth of trees outside. They were separated by the vestibule, separated with enough distance that she didn't feel the need to guard herself up in his presence. His eyes studied her like he was looking at a new book that was added to this place. Where they came from, how they came here? He will never know. Books don't talk. But this girl, this girl he can ask, this girl had answers. The famine of his curiosity had embers burning in his brain.

He felt a nudge on his feet, making him almost tip over the table. His gaze fixed on the clump of black hair on his leg. "What do you think you're doing? Get off my leg." As if it understood what he said, the creature released his leg and hopped over the table to the direction of the girl.

"Are you okay?" The girl said from across the hallway, a few feet from where he was. She was hugging the furball creature close to her chest.

He immediately tried to stand properly, saving himself from the embarrassment. "I'm fine. I'm fine." He said, coolly.

Her eyes turned from him and scanned the clutter from the vestibule to the shelves. A clutter she caused. Her eyes suddenly filled with guilt as she buried her face in the creature. "I'm sorry." she said, "I've caused you a lot of trouble since I got here. I'm sorry."

Her words were almost inaudible from being muffled by the furball's hair, but he got what she meant. "It's fine! You don't have to worry." He reassured her, "I've decluttered almost every week, with no clutter. Now I can finally do the task with an actual purpose."

The creature wiggled it's way out of her embrace and disappeared downstairs.

"Aren't you afraid of it?" He asked.

"That ball of hair?" she pointed at the area where it went.

He nodded. She shook her head, "What is it anyway?"

"A monster." He didn't say it to scare her. It was just the truth. This place and everything that is in it is either a monster or is becoming one. Including him. Especially him.

"That was no monster." She looked at her reflection on the door, "I've seen one. I'm seeing one."

For a moment, as she stared at herself in the glass, her expression darkened. Her calmness shattered. But it went back as soon as it was gone. Though, he didn't miss it, that split second slip of what she truly felt.

She scratched her wrists, uncertainty apparent in her actions. _She probably wants to ask questions too._ He told himself in his head.

"Wah!" He exclaimed, breaking the silence that was weighing heavily on her. "It's been a really long time, you know."

"A long time?" She asked.

He nodded his head. "Yep. It's been a long time since someone came here. A long time since I got to talk to or have a conversation with anyone. Your presence here is kind of... How do I say this... Comforting? Yeah, that's it."

She shook her head violently. "You're lying." She eyed the chaos she made again. "I barged in here, though I don't know how. Then I made a mess. I've only been a bother and brought trouble here. Or anywhere I go."

"Is that why you tried so hard to leave?"

"One of the reasons." She crossed her hand against her chest. _There she goes again. _He thought, _she's sinking into herself, her thoughts, her fears._

He sighed quietly, not letting her notice. He needed to do something to bring her back, to keep the conversation going. "Don't you have anything else to ask me?"

She was silent for some time, thinking, debating against herself. The blood in her clothes was now dried to a dark red color, almost black. He detested the sight of it on her, he wished he could've done something, change her off it and cleaned it. But he had to keep his word, he had to honor the promise. But most of all, he had to respect her.

Before he could drown deeper into justifying more of his actions in his mind, the sound of her shrug pulled him back to the present.

"Where, no, what is this place?" She was gripping her arm now.  
"Why can't I leave?" With every question, her grip tightened.  
"Why am I here?" She shook her head, almost trying to stop herself from asking the next question in her mind. "Why did you save me?"

He sat in his chair, taking a while before answering her barrage of questions. Picking his words carefully. "This place? Ah, I see I never welcomed you to this place have I?"

He raised a hand in the direction of the grand hall. "Welcome to Rethien, the library in the forest." Following his hands, she took a peek of the entirety of the library for the first time.

"A library. So you-?"

"Yes, I'm the caretaker of this place. Hmmm. A librarian of some sorts."

She was brimming with awe as the sea of books, shelves and wood finally made sense to her. "Oh."

"You've stayed here for 3 days and you only see this place just now?" She nodded. He smiled a little inside, finally a normal conversation.

He took a deep breath before answering her next questions. "The reason I saved you and the same reason you can't leave, is because of a promise."

"Until your wound has healed. Only until then, will I allow you to leave." The lie formed a lump in his throat he couldn't swallow. But he had no choice, for him to fulfill his promise of saving her, and also driving her out of this place naturally, he had to do it. It's a win for both of them. That's it. That's his plan.

She finally released the grip from her arm. "Okay, I'm sorry." She said, again eyeing all the mess she made. "I'm sorry."

“Has anybody ever told you that you say sorry far too much than necessary?" He chuckled, but abruptly stopped as he remembered something. "Ah! So.. that's it, more or less. You can stay here until your wounds heal. But, in doing so, you need to stick by some very important rules."

She nodded and smiled again. He brushed off the budding irritation in his mind. "Okay."

He thought for a moment. "One, you have to stop saying sorry for every little thing. Not everything is your fault.  
Two, you need to sleep in the room, lock it always. Remember, I'm still a stranger and this is a place that you aren't familiar with.  
Three, do not enter other rooms without me or without telling me. You don't want to get lost inside one of the rooms here.  
Four, do not trust anything or anyone in here. Even me. As I said before, I'm a stranger. You don't trust a stranger.  
Five, when the time comes, when I say leave. You leave. That's the only time you truly trust my words.  
And six, whatever happens, always lock the main doors. Always. Always."

The bridge in between her brows creased as she bobbed her head to the side. She was deeply confused. "Not trust you?"

He answered with a smile. "There are many things, especially here, that aren't what they always seem to be. That applies to me as well."

He still didn't make sense to her. But she agreed with a simple yes.

"The room is at the far end of this floor." He pointed at a wooden door located at the edge of the floor, plastered beside an opposite wall. "You need to get out of those bloody clothes. It wasn't right of me to leave you in those unsanitary garments but I was advised to leave the matter in your own hands."

She looked at him in wonder. He knew what she wanted to ask, but her next words didn't relay it. "I'm sorry. I know this is too late to ask but, what's your name?"

"Rule number 1." He reminded her, "And isn't it rude to ask for someone else's name before giving your own?"

"I'm so-" she stopped. _Rule number 1_, he saw her repeat silently. "I'm Aerin. Song Aerin."

He stared at her for a minute, hesitating. Giving someone your name is like giving them a key to your life. He didn't want to drag her into his. But, it's okay. _She's not gonna stay here for long_, he justified in his head. _Her wound is healing fast, she's gonna leave soon._

"I'm Younghyun. Kang Younghyun."

Looking back to it now, maybe he shouldn't have done that.


	4. PAGE 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *contains graphic descriptions

**AERIN**

I stared at the face in the mirror I could not recognize. Trying to paint an image of what she looked like. What I looked like. I couldn't. Who I'm staring at, who is staring back at me, is just a facial blur. A reflection that didn't register. A face I can't see. But what I couldn't miss, what isn't blurred out of recognition, is the long thin healing laceration in her neck. My neck. Our neck. A reminder of a failed attempt.

I stared at where her eyes should be. "Why are you so weak? Why couldn't you do it properly? Why couldn't you have cut deeper?"

My voice was rising with every question. "WHY. ARE. YOU. STILL. ALIVE?"

"Why am I still alive?" _Why?_

I punched the mirror, breaking it to a web of cracks that started where my fist lay bleeding - dead center. But I felt no pain, even though little pieces of glass stuck into my skin. My heart is too heavy. My chest pulled by the gravity of emptiness that is once again sinking in, mixed with regret, shame, anger...... guilt. I repeated it yet again, "Why am I still alive?"

I dropped my head to the vanity table. The roaring silence of this place made me uncomfortable. It buzzed too loudly in my ears. Ringing and beating against my eardrums. _It hurts. It hurts. Stop. Please make it stop._ I tried to cover my ears with my hands. Still, it continued. _It hurts._ I need to get out. _I need to get out of here._

As soon as I catch my bearings, I quietly crept out of the room, taking every step carefully so that I won't wake up the automatic lights and alert him. What was his name again? Ah, Younghyun.

Moving quietly as possible, I beelined to the exit. The main doors were locked tightly, as it always was. I tried to shake it lightly, trying to loosen the bolts but it did nothing. I needed something to push the deadbolt aside. Something thin, long yet sturdy enough that won’t break in pressure. Something like a knife. The kitchen! My mind shouted to itself.

I threaded slowly down the stairs, following the steps Younghyun took as he retreated to a room with dirty dishes in his hands. The stark darkness of the hall made it look like the building was a vast room of nothing, there was a feeling that I could run aimlessly into any direction and I still won’t find an end to it. The thought of trying out that feeling is both appalling and strangely inviting.

It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the pitch black. As soon as it did, it didn’t take long for me to locate the door with a twin clover leaf embedded in its frame. A prickling sensation in my back kept me on my toes. I looked behind my shoulder a few times as I headed to the door, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I pushed the door open, not questioning my knowledge of the room though I have never been in it before. As I stepped inside, I saw it immediately, glowing against the moonlight. I was drawn to it. I unsheathed it from the block.

The cold winter air blew freely outside the window. Chilling the walls and freezing the glass, forming beautiful intricate patterns in its trail. Every puff of air that escaped my mouth, formed little clouds that disappeared as it went. Cold. It was cold. The soles of my feet took the brunt of the icy kiss of the advent of winter. My hands also shivered from the cold conduction of the blade. But everything seemed meaningless as I further stared into it.

“Beautiful,” I exclaimed as I studied the knife. From the tip to the hilt, it reflected light with a body of silver that on its own glowed like magic was infused to it. I was sucked in. I just stood staring at the blade. My breathing paced, my heart raised. All as I was staring deeper into the sharp silver dagger nestled in my palms. Air blew in my ear, pushing my hair backward, with it came a whisper. _Do it!_ It said. I flinched backward, checking the kitchen if somebody was there. There was no one. But the voice was still there, now whispering to my other ear. Do it! It said again.

My whole body froze in fear. Where did the voice come from? Its words still lingered in my ears. I picked up the knife which I dropped in surprise. As my skin made contact with the steel, the whispers became a scream, _Pierce your throat! Do it!_ Over and over and over again. _Pierce your throat. Die. Die. Die._ I can feel my body move to oblige. Every repetition pushed me into a trance that left me no choice but to follow the voice's words. My eyes never leaving the blade, which was now shaking uncontrollably from the trembling of my hands that rejected the persuasion of the whispers. I can feel it winning.

_No, I don't want this!_ I screamed silently in my mind. The knife was slowly gaining its way towards my neck, even against my whole strength. Heat was conquering my palms from gripping the hilt too tight and forcing it away. I closed my eyes, I couldn't fight it anymore. Maybe I should just really..... Die! the unknown voice shouted in my head.

_No. Help!_

“Rule number 4.” Someone said, startling me from behind. I was so lost in the trance of the knife that I didn’t hear the door open. “I told you not to wander into the rooms without telling me.” My whole body jolted around in an act of shocked defense. I point the blade in the direction where the voice came from. He stood leaning against the door frame. The light from the lamp he was holding stung my eyes. I tightened my grip on the hilt as I covered my eyes with my free hand.

"LEAVE!" My heart thumped loudly against my chest, fearing his presence and drowning in shame from being caught in the act of trying to do it again, both escaping and 'that'. How do I even explain one from the other? I did mean the former, but the latter.... it wasn’t me, it was the knife. Or was it? And why do I feel the need to explain? I peeked at him between the spaces of my fingers. His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh before he entered the kitchen.

I can feel my skin burn from friction as my grip further tightened, "Don't come any closer!" I yelled at him. I was much too confused about everything that occurred. I can’t process everything at once. I need to think. I need to be alone. Ignoring my warnings, Younghyun placed the lamp on the kitchen table that separated us. He reached into one of the shelves and pulled an amber bottle.

“That isn't meant to cut flesh.” He said with his back turned against me, referring to the knife that was still pointed at him. "Is your hand okay?" His question caught me off guard. I forgot about my hand, the one that had pieces of glass still stuck in it. The same hand that was gripping the knife, painted in dark red. "Is your hand okay?" He repeated. I met his concern with hostility as I moved one step closer, still brandishing the knife in his direction.

"Please leave," I begged. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Is your hand okay?" His voice was platonic. Suggesting nothing, meaning nothing. It was just a question. His foxy eyes stared straight at me. I never looked at him close enough to remember anything else. But his eyes always struck me like that, fox-like. Eyes that carried no judgment, just plain and raw curiosity. His voice was the same.

I grit my teeth. "It's okay. It doesn't hurt. Just please leave."

He opened a drawer from under the table and got what looked like a first aid kit. "Let me see it."  
He reached for my hand.

I pulled back and swung the knife in defense with my eyes closed. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" I felt it, I felt the knife striking his hand. I dropped the knife in shock. Guilt overflowing inside. I knew he didn't mean any harm. I knew, from the three days I spent here, that Younghyun wasn't someone I should be afraid of. He isn't like him. I felt that. But still, I was afraid. I was made to be afraid. I didn't want him to see that. That's the last thing I could've done to someone who has only shown me kindness. The only one for a very long time now. That's why I tried so hard to leave. He was dangerous. He was dangerous not because he might hurt me, or he might do something to me. His eyes told me he wouldn't. He was dangerous because I was. And what happened just now, just proved I was right all along.

I covered my mouth with both hands. Younghyun was recoiling in pain, his whole body covering his hand. That's what I saw. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." I hurt someone.... again.

No. No. No. I hurt someone again. I hurt someone again. I hurt someone again. No. NO. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm better off dead. I'm better off just not existing. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was drowning in the sea of my guilt. Deeper and deeper, I succumbed to it. Deeper and deeper I drowned. Deeper, I went deeper. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I hurt someone again. I'm so sorry. I'm better off dead. I'm sorry. I'm sor-

"Aerin, hey." He called out, waving his hand in my face. My brain stopped working and focused on one detail, his hand. "I'm fine." I grabbed it, flipping it from one side to the other. Checking his palm, his fingers, checking every part. There was no wound, no blood, nothing. But, I... "I'm fine." He repeated. I moved closer to the table to check his other hand. There was nothing.

I can't believe it. I was sure I felt it. I felt it. "I felt it. I had my eyes closed but I felt it." I was sure. I knew I hit him with the knife. I felt it. "How?"

He was silent for a moment. "You didn't hit me." I was still studying his hands. "Though I got scared for a second there." But I felt it. Did I just imagine it? I was still trying to unjumble the thoughts in my head.

"I thought you were afraid of me?" He asked.

It took me a while to get what he meant. I looked at his hand again, and it hit me. I released him and retreated back. "I'm-"

He was looking at me with a little grin on his face. “I’m okay.” He cut me off, reassuringly. “Can I take a look at your hand now?”

I hugged my right hand to my chest. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt.”

“I insist, please.” He extended his hand, “Think of it as a payment for almost cutting one of my fingers off.” My guard crumbled on that comment. I had nothing to rebut him. I offered my shaking right hand, hesitating at every inch.

"It's okay." He said, waiting for my hand to reach his. "I won't hurt you."

An electric shock of fear went up from my fingers to my brain as soon as our skin touched. "Easy," he said, trying to calm my heavy breathing.

He didn't grab it, he didn't pressure it. Instead, with the softest touch and the lightest contact, he led my bleeding hand to the table, resting it in the cold wood. He started treating it immediately. Pouring honey first and then waited, explaining that it was in order to remove the tiny pieces of glass that he couldn't get with the tweezers. All the while just focusing on my hands. I looked at it, torn and bleeding in all areas. I remember the days when I would get beat up, at school or at home. I remember all the cuts I had to treat, some I left to heal on their own. All the bruises I would hide with an expired concealer from my mom's collection. No one treated them but me. No one took care of them for me, but me. I looked at the wound again. I looked at him who took care of it, as gently and as cautiously as he can. I can feel my emotions swell up inside. How stupid is it of me right now to be jealous of a wound on my own hand? A wound I caused myself?

"It wasn't me." I was shocked by my own sudden defense. But I couldn't stop. "I swear it wasn't me. I came for the knife to pick the doors, not because I-"

"Aerin, I know. I know." He rose from the crouching position he was in while tending to my hand. "I know." His warm gaze felt like a sledgehammer smacking right through my walls. And I've never realized until now, that they can be this weak, getting smashed by a simple act of kindness.

"Why haven't you asked me anything?" Steel yourself Aerin. That's the only way you can survive. "Aren't you curious? Why I did that thing before I got here?"

"I am curious." He admitted, returning his focus back to my hand. "But I have no right to ask you questions nor question any of your actions."

I laughed a little, that was new. "Why are you so kind to me? You don't know me, or anything about me. Aren't you afraid that I might be a bad person just waiting to kill you or steal from you?"

His eyes, his focus, never left my hand. He was on the process of removing the last pieces of stuck glass. "Bad people don't try to kill themselves. They bask in their misdoings, and do more," he said in monotone. "And I'm just keeping my word, fulfilling a promise."

"A promise? To who?"

"The neith.”

“Neith?”

“The furball monster."

I gasped. "It talks? How? But why?"

"You know," he said, wrapping a bandage around my hand. "For someone who didn't say a word for almost 3 days, you have your way with questions." He paused for a second before tying the bandage around my hand and turned to me with a smile on his face. The perfection of his smile, lined by a set of perfect white teeth flooded me with a tinge of annoyance. There's no way someone could have a smile that perfect is there?

My face flushed red in embarrassment. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He laughed. "It's okay. I was just shocked to hear you talk so much." I glared at him. He stopped laughing at once, as soon as he saw me. "I'd like to answer all of your questions but, whatever the neith's reasons were, are not for me to indulge."

He was tidying the first aid kit up. The silence between us unnerved me. It made me aware of myself and the voices that won’t shut up. "I'm sorry," I said, with full knowledge that I was breaking rule number 1. "I've caused you trouble again. I'm, just, really good at that."

He put the first aid kit back to its original place. "This is the part where you should say thanks rather than sorry though." I look at my all bandaged right hand. I knew, I know, that I should express my gratitude. But, every time I open my mouth, all that ever comes out is that I was sorry. "And, I'm the one who should be sorry. I pushed you too far earlier. But I couldn't leave your hand all bloody like that. I can't stand seeing people hurt, but it wasn't a good enough reason for me to force you. I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "If there's anything I can do to ever repay you, just tell me."

His smile became dry, almost forced. "Heal. Get better and leave."

My expression dropped. That hurt. Leaving is what I’ve been trying to do all along. Hell, I went sneaking around this place because I wanted to leave. But to hear it from him directly. Hear him say it straight to my face. I didn't know it would hurt this much. But, what did I expect? That I would suddenly be welcomed just because he was kind to me? All of these, what is happening now, isn’t something new. It's the natural way of things in my life. What is meant to be thrown, will always be thrown. That's my nature. It hurt. I smiled.

I notice him studying me. "I'll do just that. Despite everything, I am someone with unexpectedly high vitality. It won't be long." I ran my fingers through my healing neck. "I'll be gone before you know it. I promise."

He looked like he was about to say something, but stopped. He sighed a big one. I looked at my bandaged hand again, "I've been doing all the asking, don't you really have one? A question you want to ask me?"

"Hmmmmmm." He rested both of his palms on the table and turned to face me. The warm kind air around him shifted just a little. "Why don’t you cry?"

I didn't expect that. I-

"I've learned not to" I answered, truthfully. I met his eyes with a smile. The way I always do. A reflex, of some sort. A mask I put up. A habit I can't break.

He couldn’t hide the irritation from his face. “Why?” There was no masking the tinge of hostility from his voice, it was greater than the one from earlier. I pulled my whole body back in instinct. He was filled with instant regret. “Sorry. That came out harsh."

"No. I told you to ask, and you did." I thought for a moment. "I promised not to, at first. But, in the long run, it was easier just not to. What good are tears for anyway?”

His eyes softened like he understood something. Like deep inside something clicked. A similar experience. Or maybe it's just me trying to read into his kindness more than I should. I should stop. "You promised who?" he asked.

"Myself. Way back when my dad left. I promised myself that I wouldn't cry, especially not in front of my mom." The memory of her formed a lump in my throat I couldn't swallow. My mom. "She would beat me when I cried. Then I'd see her cry on her own alone afterward. That's when I decided I'd stop. That I won't. It was easier for both of us.”

He clenched his fist. "Your mom beat you?"

That little gesture touched me. I don’t know what he felt, was he revolted? Angry? Sad? I don’t know. But the fact, that he felt for me, that was enough. "My mom took her anger out on me because I looked like the spitting image of my dad. She hated it when I cried, cause she said it was a sign of weakness. And me and her both, don't have the luxury to be weak. Sometimes she would hit me and hit me until I passed out so that I wasn't crying anymore. Then I'll wake up sometime after that, with her tending to my wounds while crying, saying sorry. I'd pretend to still be passed out until she finishes. I stopped crying sometime after that. Whenever she beat me, I just accepted it. She'd stop shortly after."

“Then,” he paused a little like he knew his next words would cause me pain. “you cut through your arms to handle your pain?” They did.

I feel the scars on my wrist itch a little. I just gave a little nod.

"Does it make it a little bit better? The cuts?"

"No. Not at all." I ran my hand through the sleeve, letting the cloth caress the scars underneath. "But, when you're so drowned in a feeling that leaves you no room to breathe. The cut. That moment when the blade opens up your skin and pain courses towards your brain. That moment gives you a little room, just a little window to catch your breath. Bringing a sense of comfort from a feeling, pain you control. And when blood escapes from the wound, and you see it's red. You get reminded that you're not a monster after all. That, ah, you're still human."

"But sometimes, one cut isn't enough. So you swing the blade, again, and again. You cut again. And again. Until you can't anymore. Until finally, you catch your breath. Until finally, that sense of comfort is there."

"Was life that cruel to you?"

For the first time in the days that I was here, I looked straight into his eyes. His question repeating itself in my mind, Was life that cruel to you? How do I answer that? How do I respond to that? Life has given me nothing but cruelty. The happiness it gave me at first was all a lie. Even the fact, that it made me experience that lie was in itself, an act of cruelty.

"How is life not cruel Younghyun?" My gaze and his were locked. "All I ever wished from it was for our family to be happy. Look at me now."

I feel a sudden pouring in my cheeks. Was I crying? How?  
I wiped the tears away in a flash, hoping he didn't notice. But before I could even start, he draped a cloth over my head, covering all the way to my back.

"Don't stop yourself. You need it." Again, his voice was flat, straight, carrying no other meaning than what he was implying. And yet, I found security in them, that yes, even though he told me I shouldn't trust him, I clung onto his words, believed them, had faith in them. "You're not a monster Aerin. I know for a fact that real monsters don't bleed. You can trust me on that one."

I hear the door close. I peeked a little bit from the cloth and saw no one in front of me. Younghyun left. He left me alone to cry.

"I won't cry. That's stupid of me." I wiped the tears away, but they kept on coming. "Why won't it stop!" I laughed, I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

"Song Aerin, stop!" I was still laughing. "Stop!" But my laughs were caught in the middle of my chest heaving and my coughs.

Then I wasn’t laughing at all.

I rested my head on the table, burying it in my arms.  
I never knew crying can be so liberating.


	5. Page 4

**YOUNGHYUN**

Younghyun couldn't help but gaze upon her free-flowing auburn hair as she stood in the middle of the greenhouse, swept by warm spring air. After what happened that night, Younghyun thought it would be nice to give her a space to breathe. And this room, among all other rooms, fits the right purpose. 

The look in her eyes as she saw the gigantic room with vaulting glass ceiling and fenced wall - that housed an acre of land stretching with green grass and crops from every corner - etched a proud grin on his face. Especially when she saw where the architecture seemed to meet, a massive tree standing in the middle of it all, with roots that dug deep and wide into the earth. But what mesmerized her the most was the weather.

"Spring, in December?" She exclaimed as soon as she stepped in. The wonder in her eyes overflowed. Her curiosity picked. Aerin was stoked and for the first time Younghyun saw her drop her guard just a little, and she allowed herself a sigh of mixed wonder and relief. 

"How is this possible?" She knelt to the grass to feel if they were real. "How big is this place? Wow."

"This place-“

“-has mysteries that are sometimes beyond what we normally encounter.” She interrupted him. Her dress swayed in the air as she turned to face him. "You've told me that many times already. You know you can just say that this place is magic. It makes explaining a lot easier, don't you think?"

Younghyun just smiled. He couldn't help but think that only if her words were true. Only if it were truly that simple. Magic, huh? He thought to himself, It's more than that.

"I'm glad the dress fits you well." He pointed out, changing the topic. Finding it hard to focus on one subject, he and Aerin have bounced off one topic to another, in an attempt to maintain a conversation. But all their efforts seem to come back into one common thought. A topic she wasn't comfortable with. A topic he didn't want to pry into. Her past. 

Aerin scanned herself. The knitted straight-cut dress covered half of her calves but exposed her arms and freed her neck. Leaving her scars out for the world to see. But it was okay, she was okay because the only eyes present in this place were Younghyun's. And that was okay. Younghyun didn't look at her scars, nor at her, with disgust. In fact, he looked outraged at them. Sad about their existence. Aerin liked that. "Did you knit this? Or was this left by your family?"

"I knitted it myself." Younghyun boasted. "I tried knitting that out of boredom a few months back, but I found no use for it. But, since you came, it finally found its purpose, so I finished it. I apologize for the simplicity."

"No, it's really pretty. You're really good with a lot of stuff, aren't you? ” she traced the outline of the knits. "It kind of looks like a dress my mom used to wear. Thanks, Younghyun. You didn't have to." 

Younghyun only shook his head before leaving her on her own. He sat in the shade of a bush wall and drowned himself in a book. Though occasionally he would check in on her, just to make sure she didn't wander off.

She was facing the wind with her eyes closed, her chin pointed up, and her whole body tucked closed in her arms. The sight of her at peace for Younghyun was a sight to behold. And the book he was so eager to finish just moments ago, now only served as a shield as he spied on the girl sitting just a few feet from him, breathing in fresh air, breathing in peace.

He immediately hid between the pages when Aerin turned.

“Icarus.” Her voice was close. Younghyun peeked innocently from the book and saw her, still sitting on the grass but closer this time, close enough for a conversation. Her eyes never leaving the publication in his hands.

“My dad used to read this to me when I was young.” She stared at the book cover with a wry smile. Younghyun felt happy. Although Aerin’s smile was wry - a twisted expression of mockery, it wasn’t forced, it wasn’t fake. It was a genuine smile. A genuine wry smile. “To me and my mom both. He would always emphasize Icarus’ fall. Funny thing to teach a child.”

Silence. Aerin held her head low, hesitating before saying, "Younghyun, I have to tell you something."

Noticing the tension in her actions, Younghyun freed his hands, placing the book on the grass. Willing his full attention to the girl who sat determinedly in front of him.

"I did a lot of thinking. After crying, my head just cleared up." She clenched her fists together. "I'm leaving. Today."

Younghyun didn't know what to say. This was his wish. He wanted Aerin to leave sooner rather than later. And the chance presented itself. He knew what he needed to do. What he must do. But, something in him just felt wrong. He tried to ignore the emotions aside, justifying it as just tricks from the library. His next words felt like spikes grazing his tongue as they left his mouth.

"If that's what you wish Aerin." He sighed, those words stung. "Meet me at the doors."

Aerin was already standing, looking out at the vestibule when Younghyun emerged from his room. She was dressed in the same clothes she came in here, just now they don't have blood anymore. A long-sleeved white sweater, just in time for the current weather. But as perfect as her shirt was to cover up her arms, it left her neck free.

"Here." Younghyun handed her a neatly folded thick piece of cloth. 

"What's this?" Aerin asked as she received the gift. But before she could carry the full weight of it, Younghyun pulled it back. 

He unfolded the cloth to reveal a wool scarf, it had loose ends here and there, but it was a pretty green scarf. "Will you let me?"

Aerin nodded. “You made this too?”

Younghyun wrapped the scarf around her neck slowly, carefully, gently. “No, this was left here by a friend.” Wrapping it just enough to hide her scar and shield her from the harsh winter.

"You’re gonna be okay out there?" He asked, tying the ends of his gift in a loose knot.

Aerin was taken aback by his words. The edge of her right lip rose to a grin. “Younghyun, what if,” she buried her face in the scarf. “What if. I suddenly changed my mind, that after all, I don’t want to leave anymore.”

Younghyun took a step back in shock. He couldn’t hide the shock in his face, nor could he ignore the pain in Aerin’s after she saw his expression. Pain she immediately laughed off. A feat that was like second nature to her.

“Emphasis on the IF.” Her habit is still there, putting up a facade when she’s hurt. “I’ve already decided, and I promised you. I intend to keep that.” She hid her hands behind her back.

“Aerin,” what does he even say? When every bit of logic inside his brain pushes him to make her leave. But his heart, says otherwise. Though, is it really his heart? Or a voice taking over? “How about the people waiting for you outside? You’ve been gone 8 days now.”

The look on her face as his words registered. She averted his gaze and stared straight to and through the vestibule, staring at what lay beyond the glass and the thick forest. “I have nothing like those.” She breathed in a large clump of oxygen. “No one’s waiting for me, Younghyun. I’ve lost them all.”

“There used to be one.” She looked at her hands. “After mom died, there was one last thing that kept me going. Yuki, my dog. Though technically, I can’t call him mine. He was a stray. I found him in the park, biting off a shoe to sate his hunger. He was really skinny. I took him in because I saw myself in him. Abandoned, alone. He became everything to me. Then he was hit by a car.

I carried him with my own two hands and brought him to the vet. But it happened at night, and the town’s vet clinic was already closed. I tried to bring him to the vet’s house but before I even got there, Yuki wasn’t breathing anymore.”

“I buried him in the forest that night too.” She paused, looked back at Younghyun. “And I was planning to rest with him, but here I am now.” Aerin flinched in sudden realization.

“Maybe it was Yuki who led me here? It’s possible right?!” As if on cue, the neith suddenly appeared from the stairwell.

Aerin scooped the furry creature up to her arms. Embracing it. “Just in time neith.” She raised the neith up high. “I was about to look for you to say goodbye.”

The neith purred. She gave it one last hug. “I need to go.” She released the creature.

“I’m sorry Aerin.” He couldn’t take it any longer. Her leaving so soon just felt too wrong for him. He had to say something. He took a step back, giving Aerin her space before saying. “I wonder if I may have pressured you too much about leaving. And-“

Her eyes softened. Aerin grabbed Younghyun’s sleeve, stopping him from taking another step away.

“Younghyun,” she called out to him. “Really, for everything, thanks. And...”

She lowered her hold from his sleeve to his hand. She peeled his fingers off, opening his palm. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

Tears as large as raindrops in a storm hit the wooden floor. She cupped his hand with both of hers and pulled it to her forehead, like in a prayer. “I’m sorry.” She repeated.

“Aerin, I-“ He stopped. Nothing he could say could convince Aerin otherwise. When she swung the knife at him that night, she firmly believed she hit him.

“I felt the struck, Younghyun. I can’t explain how or why there’s no scar. But I felt it. I knew. I know.” She released his hand. “But you said it yourself, this place does not follow logic. That’s why.....”

“Younghyun. In truth, I’m scared.” She held her head low. “I’m scared of seeing people. I’m scared of seeing their eyes, their expressions when they look at me. I’m scared of seeing the judgment.

I’m scared that "that" person would still be alive if I go out there. I’m scared that my world… would be the same… and that I would still be in pain. I’m scared, Younghyun.” Her grip tightened, she placed his arm in the space between them.

“But what I’m scared of the most.” She cupped his hand with both of hers. “What I’m scared of the most. Is hurting people I care about, again.”

Younghyun just stared at her. Not wanting to interrupt her emotions, not when she finally took the courage to face them.

“Funny, isn’t it?” She wiped the tears off her face. Her eyes still locked on Younghyun's hands. "I've only been here 8 days. I've been asleep for half of it. I only talked to you yesterday. But I dare say that you're someone I care about." She released his hand.

”What will you do once you go out?" He asked.

Aerin shook her head, she was busy wiping tears off her eyes. "I don't know."

"You're not planning to do it again, are you?"

"I don't know."

Younghyun sighed. He did that a lot. Especially when Aerin came to the library. He couldn’t help but worry. He couldn’t help but want to ask. Cause just like Aerin, he didn’t know why, he didn’t know when, but he cared. He cared for her. She worries him. Too much.

“Wait here.” He reached for a drawer in his office, pulled a piece of paper and grabbed a pen as he was returning. “How do you spell your name?”

Aerin drew the characters with her finger. “Song- Ae- Rin.”

Younghyun finished writing and gave it to her.

“A library card?”

Younghyun nodded. “If ever, you want to come back. If ever the world is too much and you feel like you have nowhere to go. I’ll be here, Aerin.”

“But,” she was bewildered. “I thought you didn’t want me here.”

“I didn’t say that.” Younghyun patted Aerin’s head. “I didn’t like you staying here. I can’t explain why. But it’s dangerous. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t want you here.”

Aerin’s face flushed. The last time someone patted her head was years ago. She didn’t expect the feeling to be so warm, to be so comforting. 

“I feel like Icarus with wax wings.” She turned the knob of the doors, this time the locks unlatched and the doors swung open. “The neith is Daedalus. The world is the fortress.”

She took a step out, breathing in a little bit of courage before she finally leaves.

“What about me?” Younghyun asked, curious.

Aerin looked back to him, ready to close the doors. “You’re the sun, Younghyun.” She closed them, following rule no. 6, placed her hand in the glass and in an inaudible whisper, she bid goodbye.

And she was gone.

The silence that engulfed the building as soon as she left was chilling. The library felt dead, and there was only somber and cold left to feel. Younghyun made sure the inner doors were locked, and waited for that metal click from the main doors before he turned back for the building.

“Are you sure it was wise to let her leave?” The neith was seating in the empty pedestal on the landing. Its fur standing and shaking in place. Its eyes staring straight up at Younghyun who was taking a seat at the top of the stairs.

Younghyun couldn’t answer. He was asking himself the same question. “She decided for herself.” He rubbed his head. “What would you have done if I were you?”

The neith exploded in a puff of smoke and assumed its original form. “You very well know why I brought her here, guardian!” The anger in the neith’s voice echoed through the wood.

“You brought her here so I could save her life!” Younghyun stood up, “By letting her out, I was doing just the same! After spending 8 days here, you should know by now what that time spent here asks for in return!” He couldn’t control the anger boiling inside him.

The neith jumped off the pedestal. And ran to where Younghyun was. It placed its forehead on his, floating in midair to match his height.

“Guardian,” it said. “The world outside of this trap is nothing less than the dangers she will face here. But unlike there, someone is here for her. You’re here.”

Younghyun averted the piercing gaze of the neith. “That’s because you left her.” The neith floated off while smiling at Younghyun.

“Prepare her, guardian.” Steam was rising off the neith’s body. “So that one day she could live on her own. So that one day, she could live through the pain and move forward for another day. Something we couldn’t teach her when we were still by her side.”

Younghyun could only watch as the neith’s form melted.

“For now,” there was only half of its original body left. “Let this famished being trapping the both of us in this place feast on what is left of me. As payment for leaving that girl alone.

Guardian, I leave Aerin in your hands. Save her. And maybe, then, you can find it in you, also, to forgive yourself from what you have done.”

Younghyun covered his eyes as a cloud of steam swallowed the neith, and from the air fell the hairy black creature Younghyun was familiar with.

The neith was weakened. It struggled to keep even its eyes open. It shifted it’s furry body in all directions, trying to stand, trying to move, but it couldn’t. Younghyun descended the stairs and cradled the creature to its room.

While he was laying the neith to regain its strength. Younghyun heard the swinging of the glass doors opening and close, followed by heavy footsteps running inside the library that was also met by the locking of wood on wood. He didn’t have to think twice about who just entered the library.

“Aerin.” He and the neith said at the same time.


	6. PAGE 5

_ **AERIN** _

I closed the door behind me. Breathing out the fear as I hear the bolts on the door latch. Do doors have different sounds when they close? Cause I can say, for sure, that the sound of the doors closing in the apartment and Younghyun’s library sounded distinctly different. And this door, just seemed like I was back in the library.  
Weird.  
I was a hundred percent sure that after hearing the news in the convenience store, I ran back home.

I slide my back down the door until I hit the cold floor. I was sinking my head into the scarf he gave, breathing in the scent.  
Oddly, there was none.  
Yet I breathed in.  
The memory, the feeling, that moment when he gave it to me. I closed my eyes, and there he was, standing a length away from me, his hands reached out, his eyes, his voice-

"Aerin?" That voice. Yes, that. Wow, it sounded too real. How can it be too real?

I must be delusional. "Aerin?" There it is again. I focused my brain stronger, blocking out other thoughts. I wanted to hear it just once more, him calling me, his voice calling my name.

"Aerin?" But this time, the voice came with a knock. "I know you're in there." _Wait; what?_

I open my eyes, and the familiar sight of the room Younghyun lent me in the library welcomed me. Weird. I wasn't supposed to come here. _Why? Why am I here?_

"Aerin?" He called again, knocking gently. "I'll come in."

The doors cracked open a little before I pushed it back close. "No."  
How am I supposed to face him? It wasn't even that long since I left, and now I'm back. I didn't want to be back. Not yet, at least.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine." My back was still pressed against the door, keeping it shut. "I'm fine," I repeated, trying to convince him… and myself. I’m fine.

I hear him slide his back down against the wooden frame. “Want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about." I snapped back immediately. “I’m fine, Younghyun.”

I hugged my knees, resting my cheeks on the comfort of the scarf.

"Younghyun?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry." I was. "I didn't plan on coming back here this soon. I promise."

He didn't answer. My heart doubled at the thought that he might be angry. I prepared for the worst. When he finally spoke, he changed the topic altogether.

"Was it cold outside?"

I hugged my knees tighter, thinking about the empty playground that welcomed me as I stepped out of the forest, the darkroom I opened and stepped in to, breathing nothing out of the crevices in its walls. It was, "Yes, cold. Really. Really cold."

I could hear Younghyun stand from where he sat. "Aerin." He called my name; it’s nice hearing it from him. "I'll be down at the hall. If you want, you can go there and have some hot tea, okay? I'll start a fire for you."

I heard his footsteps go and fade. I wanted to sprint to him, towards the warmth he radiated. But I stopped myself.

Facing Younghyun meant telling him what happened. That's why I didn't want to be back here. Was it magic? His powers? Younghyun has a way of pulling out things from me. Thoughts, feelings I haven't told anyone even myself. But when it came to him, they just naturally flow out. And the things I tell him scare me.

It took me a few more minutes before I opened the door. I walked to the stairwell, down to the landing, greeting the four sculptures that kept watch of the doors and unto the carpet laden floor of the main hall. Younghyun was sitting on a grandfather couch facing a high fire that burned inside a fireplace that wasn't there before. I sat on the floor beside the chair, the backpack I brought with me carrying what I can reach, and what I think I bought, still strapped on my back.

Younghyun handed me a cup of steaming tea. It's aroma engulfed me, calming my nerves. A book was resting in his left hand, and his eyes never left it. I took a sip from the cup. The tea was delicious.

"The roads were covered in snow that painted the whole town white. Hiding the secrets of this quiet town in a blanket of flakes of cold masterpieces." He started reading off the book. "The life was still, and the buildings swayed like they were breathing, trying to beat off, fight off the cold too."

He turned to me. "Did it look like this outside?" His eyes were brimming. He resembled a fox too much, just with chubbier cheeks and no fur.

"It's not that white," I answered, trying to remember. "Snow hasn't fallen yet."

"Oh," Younghyun said, disappointed. He closed the book.

I hide the childish grin that was forming on my lips. "But everything else, the life being still, the buildings looking like they were breathing. Yes, it kind of looked like that."

The glimmer in his eyes reignited. “Wow. That would be a sight to see.”

"Were you not allowed to go out in the winter?" I asked as the embers in the fireplace crackled and started to dim, weakening the heat of the fire that warmed my freezing body. Younghyun stood to throw more wood to feed the flames. His back slumped, and in the peace that was only disturbed by the hissing of dehydrating wood starting to burn, I could almost hear him think.

“I was an only child, but not a sheltered one, Aerin.” He said with a chuckle, his back still turned against me. “It’s just that the winter, no, what I remember of it, is very different from what the books describe or what you are experiencing.”

"What do you mean by that?" His shoulders dropped as the fire in the hearth rose. Younghyun turned to face me with a smile on his face.

"Nothing." He poured tea to my empty cup, "How are you feeling?"

_You're doing it again, _I thought. _You're dodging my questions._ I drink the tea in one gulp, burning the tip of my tongue a little. I coughed the pain away. Among the other things that went through my head, I say, “I’m fine.”

Younghyun wasn’t convinced. We were both just seated on the carpet, our knees meeting our chins. He kept staring at me, trying to break down the little restraint I have about confessing to him while I was doing my hardest to avoid his gaze.

“Ae-“

Something inside my head broke. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” I looked at him. “I’m fine. I’m-“ the smile on his face made me stop. He looked amused.

He scratched the back of his head, still smiling. “I was only about to tell you that you could drop the rucksack from your back. It’s heavy, isn’t it?”

"Ah." Blood rushed to my face. I hug my legs together, hiding my head in the space between my thighs and chest.

"I'm not going to ask you for things that you aren't ready telling, Aerin. And I told you, didn't I? I'm not someone to be trusted. You don't have to tell me anything."

I felt a spike rising from my chest to my throat. The fire cast shadows that danced in the carpet and the walls. I let out a frustrated sigh. Threw the bag, I had weighing my back down to the side. I opened my arms wide, reaching as high as I can, stretching in mid-air, and finally letting my back fall on the floor. Younghyun only watched me as I did this weird release.

The crackling of the flames grew louder as the heat from the hearth rose. Younghyun sat back up on his couch, his whole body now hidden from me. “Were you going somewhere?” He asked. I could hear him flipping through pages.

“That option is only for people that have somewhere to go.”

He flipped another page. “So, why the bag?”

I exhaled the pent up air in my lungs. I got back up on my butt and leaned my back on Younghyun’s chair. "Because," the sweat in my hands poured profusely. "Running away is the only thing I got going for me, Younghyun. I run away from things I cannot face. I was supposed to run away."

I gathered my self as I stared at the vaulting ceiling, trying to pick through the million thoughts that went through my brain that time, the million thoughts that are still there. "I'm a coward. I can't even do running away properly. Maybe that's why my life is so messed up. I can't do anything properly."

I was about to hit my head when Younghyun put his hand on top of it. I flinched, but it didn’t take long for me to adjust to his sudden gesture. There it is, his magic, the way his simple touch stilled the chaos inside my head. It’s pleasant, addicting, dangerous.

"You like stories, don't you Younghyun?" I asked, basking in the warmth his palm was emanating not just on my head, but my emotions as well. "Want to hear one?"

"I'm listening." The chair creaked when Younghyun relaxed his back on the backrest. His hand was still on top of my head, and from it, I pulled strength.

I started the story like how every other story was told. "There was once a girl who was born in a simple family." It was difficult for me to start, but once those first few words left my mouth, I didn't have to think of what to say next. It felt like those words were begging for me to tell them, asking for me to release them.

I did, and the story continued like this, "They weren't rich, but they weren't poor either. They had enough, and that was enough. They were happy. Really happy. Her mom worked in the day, a typical 9-to-5 office worker, while her dad traveled a lot, and so he wasn't home most of the time. But they were happy. Really happy. And that little girl thought that that happiness, that life has no end. She had enough; no, she felt she had more than enough. She had a very loving mom, who took care of her like she was her world and a dad who made the most of his time with her as payment for the time he wasn't. She felt like she had everything. Everything she needed, everything she would ever want. And she was happy. She was really happy.

But one day, on her way to school, she had this very nagging thought of going to the ice cream shop, her dad brought her to whenever he was home. Where they would eat chocolate-chip vanilla ice cream and laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Despite her better judgment, she followed the nagging thought in her head. On her way there, she saw a familiar face — a familiar smile.

She saw her dad." I stopped, imagining what the girl must have felt at that moment almost took over me.

"Can you imagine the joy she must've felt? After another long time, she finally saw her father again." I laughed. Younghyun ruffled my hair a bit before withdrawing his hand. I wish he didn't.

"Her heart jumped in excitement. She was so ready to run to him. Until, she saw, on her father's hand, the hand that held hers as they walked down those roads, the hand that caressed her hair and patted her back when she was having trouble sleeping, the same hand that warmed her cheeks that burned red with the swift kisses of cold air, held another girl's hand. Her father held another girl's hand and smiled at that girl with the same smile he gave her, with the same love in his eyes, if not more.

She was what, eight turning nine years old at that time, what did she know? Yet, she understood. Deep inside, she knew what it meant. And instead of running towards the father she missed, she froze in place. And the family that looked like a scene she experienced for herself passed her by, a scene she thought was only exclusive for her didn’t even notice her presence. Her father passed her by without even a second glance at her direction.

When she returned home a little later that same day, after spending some of her time on a playground bench, thinking, praying, and thinking some more, convincing herself that nothing's changed and everything was alright, she found her mother crying by herself on the floor. She asked her what was wrong. But instead of an answer, her mother slapped her with the force of her whole body. Screaming at her that it was her fault, screaming and hitting her, again and again. And the life she thought would never end, the life she thought would continue in forever for her, ended in a flash. The happiness faded." I stared up at the ceiling first before cheerfully declaring, "The end."

I heaved my body up the couch's armrest. "How is it? How's the story? I came up with it just now."

Younghyun rubbed his chin. I jumped backward, landing back on my butt when he straightened his posture and looked at me. "You-" I swallowed the spit that pooled under my tongue. "You're a terrible storyteller."

I burst out laughing. I felt like the air in my lungs was only being exhaled, and nothing was coming in. I was laughing and coughing and crying all at the same time. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Younghyun rested his cheeks on his left, looking at the mess that I was rolling on the floor from unrestrained laughter. He just watched me. I wiped the tears away, still catching my breath from laughing too much.

"I like that better." He suddenly said.

"Like what?" It was hard pulling yourself together from a good laugh.

"I like it better when you laugh and smile naturally." The laughter that overwhelmed me just a split second ago was gone. Replaced by a sudden wave of emotion, I didn't know what. But my chest ached, just a little — just a tinge, just enough for me to feel that there was something there.

My daze broke when the couch creaked against Younghyun's full weight. "Aren't you hungry? Let me make something."

"Wait!" I yelled at him, remembering something. I rummaged through the bag I brought. After a few tugging struggles, I finally pulled out two red packs of noodles and handed them to Younghyun. "Here, a gift." I lie, that wasn't technically a gift, it was my food, for wherever I was going. He took the packets in both hands and eyed them suspiciously like it was the first time he saw them. And when he finally realized what they were, his eyes grew big, and his mouth gaped open.

"Is this-" His words were cut short in excitement. I have seen many things in my life; I wish I didn't, but I haven't seen someone get so excited about two packs of noodles. "This is ramyeon, right?!" He was still studying the packets of noodles in his hand, almost too carefully, like how a curator would handle a fragile piece of china meant to be displayed in a museum or sold off in an auction.

'I've only but read about them. I never thought I'd have the chance to try them. I'll cook them!" Younghyun acted like a child, given his first taste of candy. He placed the packets above the fireplace before pouring water into a pot he brought from the kitchen. A metal string tied at the mouth of the pot, its three free ends joined to a hook meant to hang above an open fire. He read the instructions at the back of the packet, again and again. He was learning every step needed to cook the noodles by heart. I watched him silently. I watched as he waited for the water to boil, as he poked the firewood with a stick keeping the flames high, and just sitting in front of the fireplace with his face in his hands, grinning in anticipation.

I dig inside the bag once again; this time, it didn't take me long to find what I was looking for. The thought flowed into me so spontaneously, and I didn't have time to think about if what I was doing was right or wrong before I just did it. Making sure I had it on silent, I clicked the shutter, capturing that moment, capturing him, capturing Younghyun in a photograph. A decision I wouldn’t regret in the future. Yet a decision that would bring me constant sorrow. But that is a story to tell at a later time.

"Ah!" I hid the phone behind my back, too embarrassed by the fact that I stole a picture of Younghyun. "Going back to your story, what happened to that girl? After that day, after she went home, what happened to her?"

The bubbling of the water in the pot called his attention. And as he poured the noodles in, cooking them well in the fire, I answered, "Oh, that kid?" Stealthily I put the phone in my back pocket.

"She died."

"Oh." He said while stirring in the powder and paste. I felt the air suddenly drop.

"It's just a story, Younghyun. I just made her up." He tasted the soup. Yet, he didn't react. For someone who claimed to have waited to eat something for a long time, then finally have a taste of it, they should react, right? Good or bad, there should be a reaction. But Younghyun gave nothing. His face remained stoic. _Why? _"Why do you ask?"

He removed the pot from the flames and set it on a small table beside his chair. He carried the table to where I was. "Eat," he said, our gazes never meeting.

I was blowing on the noodles when he spoke again, "Why did you kill her?" I choked on the noodles.

"What?!" I mouthed against the pain.

"It's your story. You made it up." He handed me a cup of water. "In the story, why did you kill her?"

I drop the chopsticks on the table, punching my chest to cough up the blockage in my throat. "Just because," my throat finally cleared out. I drank another large sip of water. "it was more humane and merciful to end her life in that part than let her suffer in the future. In my head, there was nothing bright nor lit-up end of the tunnel for her. If I let her live, she would have walked down a dark endless tunnel. Alone.”

Younghyun continued to slurp up the noodles. “Why?” I swallowed the rest of the remaining bits in my mouth. “It’s not delicious?”

“No, it’s delicious.”

“Then,” I didn’t take my eyes off him. “What’s with the long face?”

“It’s just bittersweet. It's just that I didn't think I would get the chance to eat this. And now that I had a taste of it. I just don't know what exactly to feel."

"You're a little bit melodramatic, aren't you?" I didn't want to make fun of him, but the hint of mockery in my voice was too obvious. "There's a convenience store just out of the thicket behind the playground. You can always go out and buy some there, you know." Younghyun shook his head and smirked, his perfect white teeth showing between a slight slit that opened from his lips.

"Don't kill her." He said, finishing up the rest of the ramyeon. "The girl in your story, don't kill her off there." He drank the soup from the pot. "Wah, I could eat more of that."

I looked at Younghyun blankly. I didn't get why he was so insistent on wanting that girl, from my made-up story, live. She was dead. I'm the storyteller, the author. She died, that's it. "What's so good in living Younghyun? She's better off dying that day."

"She was stripped of everything. She’ll have nothing. That’s her life in my head, Younghyun. It takes and takes and takes until you’re bare, and the only thing you can think of is dying, but you can’t.” I was out of breath. “It drains you to the point that you despise living, but you fear death, and you’re at a still point, and you hate everything. You hate everything. Until you realize you don’t actually hate everything. You hate yourself. You hate yourself because all the crazy shit that’s been happening to your life was your fault. So you hate yourself, increasingly every day."

Younghyun locked me in his sight. His eyes were brimming in empathy. “Are we still talking about the kid in the story?”

I stopped dead cold. “Who else is there to talk about except her?”

Younghyun tried to put his hand on the top of my head again, but before he could even get close, I flinched hard. He retreated.

Both of us joined each other in silence. Threading cautiously on the thin line, we silently drew against each other. A thin line we both didn't want to cross. A thin line we are stepping on to.

Younghyun arranged the plates and utensils in one pile, clearing the table in front of us. "I wish you would value the fact that you're alive more, Aerin."

"Excuse me?" His comment, clearly directed at me. I couldn't dodge the bullet.

"I don't know if the kid in your story is merely just a part of your imagination, or if she is real. But she came from you. I-" Younghyun ruffled his hair. "Never mind. I'll bring these to the kitchen." He carried the pile of dishware back to the door that I know too well. This was the first time I saw Younghyun's composure falter. The usual calmness he portrayed, the consistency in his face wavered. It was subtle, but it was enough for me not to miss it — Not after I developed the hobby of blankly staring at his face, studying him.

I followed him to the kitchen. When I entered, Younghyun was washing the dishes.

"Younghyun, is everything okay?" He didn't answer. I believed earlier that he was not angry at me. No, I made myself believe. I assumed he was not. "Just so you know, I'll be leaving in a while. I'm sorry for barging back in here even though I just left. I'm sorry Younghyun."

Younghyun turned off the faucet and set the plates he was washing back in the sink. "Earlier, you asked me what was so good about living, right?" I stood with my back against the wall just beside the door. With both hands on the counter, he supported his weight; his head pulled down low by gravity. "Everything about living is good, Aerin. Being able to eat, being able to feel joy, feel pain, everything about that is good."

"If this was about the kid in the story again, I'm sorry but-"

"It's not about that, Aerin." He turned and sat at the counter of the sink. "I'm just…"

"Just?" I steeled my chest. "Angry?"

Younghyun ran his hand against his hair. "I don't want to use that word. But, yes, maybe. Maybe, I am angry."

I fold my arms, guilt overflowing in my head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Younghyun.” I didn’t even know why I went here. I wasn’t even supposed to. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know how I came here.”

“No, Aerin, No! I'm not angry because you came here. My anger is not that shallow." He rubbed his forehead with his wet palm. "This is going to sound silly. But hear me out."

My hands were cold as ice from my racing heartbeat. I could hear my pulse beating inside my eardrums. I- no. I- Please, heart stop. Calm down. Younghyun said that you should hear him out. Stop, heart. Calm down.

My vision blurred. The beating in my ears grew ever louder. I struggled to keep my face straight, my expression - unchanging. I feel my vision blacken. I was about to lose myself, but Younghyun’s next words pulled me back.

“What?!” I clarified, not hearing him the first time. My vision started to clear.

Younghyun’s cheeks flush. His eyes panicked, and he gave a nervous smile. “I’m angry… because I’m jealous, Aerin.”

“Jealous?” I joined Younghyun’s nervous laugh. “You’re jealous of? Who? Me?”

“Yes.”

I can’t believe what he was saying. How could anyone be jealous? Of all the things in the world, all the people, how could anyone be jealous of me? I gave out a dry laugh. “Why?”

“Cause you’re alive and living Aerin.”

“And you’re not?” Is he a ghost? The terror in my face was too hard to hide.

“I am alive, Aerin. But you can’t call living here all your life ‘living,’ can you?”

I found no words to say to him. No explanation even to myself. I always knew Younghyun talked in riddles, yet they increase in difficulty all the time. And I don't get nearer in solving any of them.

“I can’t leave this place, Aerin. I can’t leave. That’s why I don’t live.” He turned to me. His eyes, pleading.

“That’s why Aerin, I’m asking you this as a favor. Stop underestimating the fact that you're alive. Live your life.”


	7. PAGE 6

_ **AERIN** _

  
When I was a kid, my parents would always bribe me with promises of the ocean. A day under the summer heat, sitting under parasols that kept our skins from burning off while I built castles on the sand. Castles that were too weak to stand on their own, yet castles I built nevertheless. The sun would kiss my cheeks while the water soothed my body. I would look back to my parents who cuddled each other in the shade, their eyes never leaving me yet their hearts and their touches were closed inside a territory of their own. I loved our summer visits in the ocean.

But like fragile sand castles, those memories crumbled and went with the time, carried away by the wave of reality. The summer splash of color of those moments were absent in the view that welcomed me as I stepped off the bus. The beach was gray and sullen from a maturing winter. The sun barely peeking in between the wall of impenetrable clouds. I trudged closer into the roaring battle of shore and wave. The sand underneath the soles of my sneakers sunk with every step, as if it was ready to swallow me whole, pull me under, and bury me deep. But it won't, and that's disappointing. I come closer for the sound of the waves to be clearer on the microphone.

“You hear that?” I scream against the flapping of the breeze and the screams of the current. The winter was harsher this year. Temperature changes were erratic and drops would go from slight to severe in a jiffy. The streets were deserted most of the time, and logically, the shore would be empty too. No logical human being would want to freeze just for a view of the ocean. But here I was. Well, after what I've done I don’t think I could count myself as one.

Static filled my ears. I waited for the almost mechanical voice to respond to my question, fighting for a connection despite the crappy reception. “Loud and clear.” The robotic-like voice responded.

I hold my arms close, hugging myself - a vain effort to keep me from freezing to the bone. “How is it?” The rattling of my teeth grew louder every passing second.

“Beautiful.” He said quietly. I can imagine him taking in the view, painting a picture perfect scenario of the scene from what he’s hearing. “I can  even  hear you freezing.”

“I didn’t know it would be this cold.” I didn’t. I was dressed too lightly for this, the only thing that was truly keeping me warm from the clothing that shrouded my body was the scarf. Younghyun’s scarf.

Younghyun chuckled in the comfort of the warm library and his disappearing fireplace. “Go take shelter. I've had my full course of sea waves.”

“You sure?” I asked just in case.

“Yes. Go get warm.”

But even before he could agree, I was already heading back the way I went, towards the nearest convenience store that offered AC generated warmth. A bell rang as I pushed the door open. My lungs expanded freely as it took a volume of warm air. The relief in my breath made Younghyun laugh. He laughs frequently nowadays. I liked that.

A beep interrupted him. “It’s almost time.” I looked at the call time counter on my phone and realized we were close to the call limit. “You should warm yourself with a drink or a soup Aerin. And, again, thank you for doing this.” The call dropped.

I place the phone in my bag and ordered a steaming bowl of ramyeon. The clerk looked at me weird when she saw how lightly I  was  dressed in this weather. Then her stare filled with annoyance when she saw me searching through coins for payment. I drop the coins on the counter and she gave me a dry smile as she checked. I was the only customer inside the store, I sat on the long bench overlooking the beach, but the view was obscured by a wall of condensation.

I couldn't help but think about Younghyun as I inhaled the noodles. His reaction back then, his words. They were all too good to be true. Like he was. At first, I thought he was spinning a story like I did. Yet as he continued, explaining everything to me the best way he can, it dawned on me. Slowly, clearly. He wasn't lying. He wasn't trying to mimic what I did. He was genuinely sharing a part of himself. His reaction to the ramyeon raised suspicions, but when he saw the handphone, the way he grabbed it from my fingers and absorbed every detail. That sealed the deal. I watched him closer, read every of his actions. I was always proud of my ability to read people, but Younghyun was, well, a mystery through and through. I knew it all this time but that moment made it all the more obvious.  Younghyun was just as he insisted — a stranger.

"What do you want to know?" His eyes lit up like Christmas lights on a store exhibit opening day.

We spent the next hour or two going over the phone. Younghyun was expectedly easy to teach. He mastered how to navigate on his own in that short amount of time. But his questions kept on coming. Our conversation which started from the basic use of the smartphone escalated to modern machinery — trains, airplanes, cars, computers, etc. — to sceneries, local and international. Younghyun wanted to know them all.

“I've read about these things in books,” he started. “But it's different, seeing them with your own eyes, experiencing them with your own skin. It's amazing.”

_I'm not living, Aerin._ His voice echoed inside my head. Another voice answered him, _And I'm a dead man walking, Younghyun._

Today is the sixth day Younghyun and I have been going through our new arrangement. I get to go back to the library any time I wanted (though for some odd reason, I’m no longer able to spend the night), in exchange for me fetching and checking off Younghyun’s bucket list, and for me to try out his favor. To live my life.

But it wasn’t as if I understood what he meant. Nor was I agreeing to the favor, when I nodded after he said those words — “Live your life”— I did it with only confusion and bare minimum understanding inside my brain. It was just like one of the reflex actions humans do in order to seem like they were paying attention to a conversation to save face. I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t think I’d win. All I knew back then was I needed him to stop. For one moment, I needed the sun to lose it’s glaring brightness and for once allow me to just enjoy its presence without burning me off to oblivion.

The bell on the door chimed, snapping me back to my cooling ramyeon. I blew on the noodles before inhaling them again in one swift go. The crumpled paper inside my jacket pocket poked me, calling my attention. I straightened the paper out on the table and checked off one of the first boxes on the list. Six days of going back and forth across town — buying, hiding, scrambling through stores and buildings, going through boxes of undisturbed memories back at home — and we’re both not even 10% close to checking off the items on his list.

Going through Younghyun’s list brings me a whirlpool of feelings. Most of the things listed in there are things a kid would want to experience. Things that made me wonder how young he was thrown to guard a building all alone. A place he himself didn’t understand. A place that even he, after living his whole life there, can’t call home.

_Younghyun_, I unconsciously called him in my mind. I checked the remaining data provided on my subscription. The only pack I could afford from the money left I earned part-timing before I decided to end it all that day, the day I came to him. There was not much left, but there was just enough to call Younghyun one more time today. _I want to hear his voice._ I didn’t recognize the yearning inside my head. I didn’t deny it either.

I gathered up my trash and hit call as I went out of the store. My chest pumped against my ribs hard and loud. Why would my chest pump against my ribs like that? Maybe it's the cold. The phone rang straight to voicemail. I sprint to the bus stop as I hear the next bus roll in. I found myself a seat at the back before calling him up again, maybe he just didn't notice the first time. Still, the call went to voicemail. I tried again, just in case, he notices it this time. But, still nothing. The ping of the voicemail was the only response.

"Hey," I rubbed my temple not knowing what to add next. "Are you okay? I'm riding the bus back now. I'll call again later. Uh-" My message was cut short but it was enough. I put the phone on my backpack and leaned unto the window.

The past days of granting Younghyun’s bucketlist really took a toll on me. Every night my back ached, my legs were sore, my nonexistent savings have now taken the literal meaning of being, well — nonexistent. And yet, I didn’t mind. I was even looking forward to every morning of traveling back to the library and to every night of getting back to the apartment to check off the things we accomplished off from his list. I especially enjoyed the part where I would stay with him and teach him how things worked, or watch his reactions to foods he either has never tasted or even read about before. Though, I needed to squeeze the little juices of concentration and knowledge my brain could offer when explaining to him subjects that I didn’t understand on my own, and my brain would physically hurt.

But what I didn’t look forward to though, was the sleep afterwards. I don’t quite understand the concept of it. I feel that I’m asleep, I know… that I’m asleep. But at the same time I’m not. My consciousness would stay awake, alert. Floating in mid-nothing, an expanse of — not blackness, but rather, absence. And in there I felt nothing. And that feeling. That sense of plain blankness. Every hair on my body would tingle, and shiver so hard I thought they were getting pulled from my skin, root and all, in one go. That’s when I wake up. That’s when I jolt up, bathing in sweat. That’s when I would tell myself that having nightmares -- flashbacks, would’ve been better than feeling that kind of nothing at all. And that’s when I would whisper so silently to myself, not wanting anyone to hear, the shameless, guiltless words of thanks, of relief for waking up. I utter once, only once, nothing more. I’d rather not sleep at all. I didn’t want to stay there, didn’t want to go through it again. I’m on my third day of fighting it, only getting a wink of sleep. Only enough to get me on my feet for another day for Younghyun.

The fear, the crippling thoughts would only arise after I have already caught my breath long after I wake up. That what if, I drowned on that dream, on the consciousness dwelling in my unconsciousness, would anyone know? Would anyone ever even bother asking where the bitch named ‘Aerin’ was? I didn’t even have to ask to know the answer. Of course not. No one would ask that. No one would care, and for-

_Younghyun_. The thought dropped on me like a 10-ton metal weight free-falling straight to my head. _Younghyun is alone. In the library. What if- no. No. For god’s sake, no._

Suddenly, everything about me was in chaos. My breathing didn’t follow pattern, nor did my heartbeat that was too loud for me not to notice, nor did my eyes — with my hands, as I shuffled across my backpack looking for the phone that I carelessly dropped in there somewhere. I needed to call Younghyun, I needed to hear his voice, I needed to know he was okay. The bus was still miles away from town and I couldn’t just sit there and wait.

I feel the cold touch of glass on my fingers. I yanked it out in one hard pull, hitting my elbow on the glass window. It hurt, but it didn’t matter. I jammed the call button immediately, not caring if I crack the damn screen on itself. But, like my attempts earlier, the call just went to the annoying ping of an unanswered attempt.

Fear grew inside me like bacteria on an infected wound. Fast and deadly. I crouched down low enough for my chest to rest on my knees. _He’s okay_. I repeated over and over. An effort to try to convince myself that it was the truth, and also wishing that it would be the only one. He’s okay. I stayed on that position, it was the only way I could keep myself from blacking out. It was one of the only things that ever worked. _He’s okay._

The interior of the bus dimmed as we entered the tunnel, a beeline to town. My mind eased with the closing distance. But the panic was insatiable, I could feel it in the edges of my skin, tingling, tickling, itching. I wanted to dial him again, but there was no reception here. I have to wait until the bus was out of this underground trail before I could take another shot at it. I laid my head back on the head rest.

_Younghyun_. I called. Thinking that maybe he might be hiding thought projection as one of his hidden magical skills. Though I knew the library was the one that had magic, not Younghyun. Or doesn’t he? _I know nothing about him, do I?_ Aside from the tiny bits of what he was showing me. Aside from the now well established fact of his permanent post in the library. I know nothing about him, not anything beyond the surface. Absolutely none. Even when I was about to spill my whole life tragedy to him. Even then, even now.

Funny how thoughts of him could put my mind at war and at ease at the same time. _Younghyun_, I say again. But this time it wasn’t a call for him. But rather a question. _who are you?_

I hear the intercom of the bus announce the stop where I planned to depart. The one just at the mouth of a boardwalk lining the river, the one nearest to the forest. The wheels were still rolling when I jumped off. I ran without looking back at the obvious sight of a furious driver who would be penalized if someone witnessed how I got off. I didn’t have the time. The fear that settled for a while rose back up like lava spewing out of a volcanic crater, menacingly waiting to escape all this time.

I call him again.

_Younghyun_. *beep*

And again. I could no longer feel my feet hitting the ground.

_Please_. *beep*

And again. My lungs burned from the cold.

_Please pick up_. *beep*

And again. I could feel my lips crack.

_Please just - _*beep*

And again. I could see the entrance to the forest.

_I-_ *beep*

And again. I ran faster.

_I don’t want to lose you too_. *beep*

And again. I’m almost there.

“Aerin?” _Finally._

As soon as I heard his voice, my knees died and I fell to the ground.

“Aerin?” The static present earlier was no longer there, and his voice was so clear in my ears that I let it linger for a second longer. “Are you okay? Did you fall?”

I lay still, cold concrete cradling the weight of my limp body. Fatigue caught up to me and so did my utter lack of sleep. So I lay there still, where I fell, for a moment just there.

“I was out on the greenhouse and I didn’t hear your calls.” He explained himself. Relief, that was the only thing in my mind right now. I feel strength come back to me gradually. I hauled myself upwards, steadying my body on the railing. When I was stable enough to stand on my own with only one hand for support, the first thing I did was laugh.

I didn't even notice it myself. I just suddenly roared a loud, throat-hurting, stomach clenching laughter. Maybe it was from the sudden release of the fear that gripped me. Maybe it was from falling so stupidly on the ground. Or maybe it was from being too weak to stand on my own feet. I laughed. And even I was caught off guard by it.

“Aerin?” I could feel him smiling through the speaker. I was laughing, even though it was out of my control and for almost no reason at all. But I was laughing, and just as he said — he liked that.

"Younghyun," I started, each word interrupted by a snort. "There's something I've been curious about. Can I ask you about it?"

"What is it?" The cries of a steaming pot filled the background.

My laughter calmed down and the weirdness of this whole ordeal, of Younghyun, of the way he never really answered any of my questions, of the way he never really said anything straight, of how I never truly understood the library and the mysteries that kept on piling one after the other as for every day I visit, and of how I feel so okay and unbothered by everything nevertheless. It's weird. I know. But at the same time, it's okay.

"Your permanence in the library," I wanted to ask him this question since the first time I believed (yes, believed. Because the first time I heard it, him saying that he was stuck in the library. I thought it was full of bull.) but I didn't find the right timing to throw it out there. And what time is more perfect than when you don't know what else to say but you want to prolong a conversation? I just really wanted to hear more of his voice. "is it through a promise? A blessing? Or.. A curse?"

Younghyun thought for a moment, his voice humming a low random tune that was still beautiful to the ears. "I don't know what to call it. But if I have to describe it as such, I think a promise would be more fitting."

I listened carefully as he tried to explain more why he thought it was a promise. He told me about how being in the library actually saved his life, that without being brought there, he most likely would have died. He didn’t explain why but I thought maybe it was because of a disease, or a family feud. Family feuds can go very brutal in this country. I said nothing more, nor asked for a clearer answer, I didn't want to pry.

"Aerin." he called after a while of silence that ensued between us. Neither was willing to drop the call, yet neither had more to say. "I learned something about you today."

"Oh, really?" I was both amused and curious. "What?"

"You're a little crazy, aren't you?" There it was, a side of Younghyun I knew. The straightforward Younghyun that had beady slits for eyes and a sly, sly smile. I didn't have to physically see his expression to know it. His image in my mind was vivid enough. The laughter that dissipated earlier, roared back to life.

Our conversation went on, revolving mostly about jokes. Younghyun couldn’t make one by the way. He’s a genius at everything else, but he can’t bring out a proper joke. And I had the time of my life looking at the river while enjoying his vain effort in trying not to spew out corn. But it was everything he ever said.

“You need to stop, Younghyun.” I told him mid-laughter. “It’s good to have things you’re not good at. You can’t have it all.”

My abs were worked out too much. Younghyun shrugged, trying to think of other jokes that he thought would pass as a good one. Our conversation went on and on, it felt like hours has passed but actually, we were still on the allowed limit of the plan.

I was about to give him another chance when my handphone was yanked out from my hand.

“Well, well. Aren’t you a happy one?” I recognized the person even without looking. I'm good at remembering people who left strong impressions on me. I heard her screaming close to my ears too many times for me not to know. Lee Yumi. She hated me, one of the many. And she saw that as a valid reason to strike. “The audacity of this bitch. Who are you talking to?”

She handed my phone to one of her companions who checked who I was talking to. “It’s turned off. What the hell?”

_Turned off?!_ I wondered. Maybe the battery died. But I was sure I charged it on the bus on the way here. That was weird. And yet, I was thankful, because whatever was said there, whatever they called me, whatever they did, Younghyun wouldn’t know. Younghyun didn’t have to know.

I didn’t have enough strength in me to run away. Every muscle in my body was too tired to move, and the adrenaline that kept me going earlier was all spent. My system was running on an empty tank.

"Give that back  Lee  Yumi." I asked calmly, its value has increased emotionally from the past six days. I would've gladly thrown it away before, but now, no. I reached for it from Yumi's companion, a person I haven't seen before. But the duo passed the gadget between them, and I wasn't strong enough yet to wrestle it back.

"Come and get it if you want it." She taunted me. But I knew better than to let myself fall in her trap. I've been in that situation a few times already. Yumi will get tired of the game she was playing after a while, I'd just had to toughen it all out. "What do you say Aeri? Do I beat her face in?"

My resolve crumbled at that name, _Aeri_. Her name so close to mine. My name so close to hers. She came from the same direction I took, the same direction the duo that came before her did too. I was too scared to face her. Not her. I willed my self to run, but my legs couldn't move and before I knew it, Yumi had pulled my hair which made me fall to my knees.

Yumi dragged me closer to Aeri. I tried to break her grip but she had a huge clump of hair tight in her palm. The pain shot through every nerve in my head and I fought not to be free but instead to be comfortable in that position.

“What is this? Did you ask me out today for this?” Aeri asked, her annoyance was overflowing. “I’m going home if this is it. Dad wanted to watch a movie, I’ll just go there.”

She said those last words loud enough for me to hear. She wanted me to hear it. But I didn’t give her the reaction she wanted. I couldn’t care less. I smirked when I saw the dissatisfaction in her face from my indifference. Yumi saw that and smacked my face with her free hand.

I nearly forgot how it felt. The way the skin stung after it had been struck by another flesh with the force of once whole might. How that sting crawled inside your skin. I fell again to the ground. Yumi and the other girl didn’t waste another second and kicked me helpless. I tightened my whole body into a ball, shielding whatever I could from the brunt of the assault.

I could taste blood in my mouth. I could hear them laughing. But my eyes were focused on my discarded handphone, an arm’s length away from where lay while getting beaten. It wasn’t turned off at all. And displayed at the screen was my name with a time-counter under it.

Yumi was spewing words that weren't all that original. With every kick, she called me names I've heard people call me before, even names I called myself. I ignored them, those didn't mean a thing anymore. Names you've shouted at yourself lose weight when they're said by others. She could call me all that, she could call me all that and a lot more of the worst things she can imagine, but I would not let her berate my mom. Never. But when I turned to face her and force a bit of retaliation her companion managed to sneak a kick straight on my navel. That hurt a lot.

They stopped shortly after and left, leaving me behind, pain and cold claiming me. I stayed there longer than I intended, but I knew that I wasn't just going to show Younghyun the visible swelling in my body. When I was able to stand up again, I forced my self towards the edge of the boardwalk, where there was a gate that lead to the river. I washed the blood from my torn lips there. The cold water helped calm the swelling on my cheeks. I stayed there until I felt the stinging vanish.

I entered the library and found Younghyun waiting for me from behind the inner door. As soon as I closed the door behind me, making sure that it was locked, he entered the vestibule and examined my face. Knowing exactly what to look for. I knew it, although I did not want to, Younghyun heard what happened, the extent though, that I wasn't sure.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, moving my face slightly to the side.

I shook my head. "I'm fine." I knew he knew I was only saying that. I could see it from the way his eyes looked at my wounds.

"Come inside. We'll have to treat those." He released my face. "I brewed some tea already, you should warm up at the couch , I'll just fetch the kit."

I caught the edge of his sweater as he turned his back to me. "Aer-"

"Just stay like that." I stopped him, cementing him in position. "Younghyun, can I ask you a question?"

He gave a verbal nod.

"Why won't you ask? You heard everything , didn't you?"

"Will it help you?" He answered right away that I was shocked silent. "Will it make things easier for you if I ask?"

I just chuckled tiredly.

He shrugged. "I can't help from what's already happened, Aerin. No matter if I want to or not. What I can only do, right now, is treat your bruises." He attempted to face me but I held him immobile as I grabbed his sweater with both of my hands.

"I'm fine." I say again. "That wasn't anything." Really, it wasn't. I've had worse.

"I know you're fine, Aerin. Let's just say this one's on me."

I planted my head on his back. "What do you mean?"

"I know you're fine but I don't want to see you bruised, Aerin." He attempted again, but my grip was tight and my head on his back steady.

I shook my head as if I was drilling it into his spine. "Honestly, Younghyun , I'm so tired I can't move. I can barely move a muscle without feeling pain. Let me just stay like this for a minute."

Younghyun went silent, and I thought that was him surrendering his will into mine. I closed my eyes, letting the security and the peace settle in. The next thing I knew was that I was falling forward only to be caught by Younghyun's back. I was about to protest, the sudden gesture was so unfamiliar to me that if I didn't know it was Younghyun, I would have screamed and fought back. But I didn't. I was shocked yes, it took a second but I realized, I felt like I wanted it too. I wanted to be there, I wanted to be close to him. It scared me, my heart raced and hurt. But there wasn't somewhere else better to in that moment other than on his back, inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth. I wanted to be there, I was thankful I was there. In that short moment when he carried me on his back and brought me inside his cage.

A place my soul secretly wanted to call home.


	8. PAGE 7

** _Younghyun_ **

He didn't know where he was. The last thing he saw before he closed off everything was the view of the phone ringing on the table in front of him. It rang almost endlessly, again and again. And he just kept staring at it, unable to do anything. He was trapped, and this time, he was trapped deep. At first, it felt like he was drowning in a swamp of half water, half mud. The filth of his subconscious apparent in the water that clung to his skin. He didn't bother fighting for control. At the moment, him trapped offered no danger to anyone. To Aerin, only maybe, a tiny bit of worry from him not answering, but it's okay, he can give out a reason if she asks later.

The sound of the ringing faded in the distance. It pierced his ears at first, but now, it was barely audible. Bare enough for him to think, that maybe what he was hearing now was just a product of his imagination. It faded more, gradually, until sound was no longer present in any form. Not even the sound of his breathing, nor of his heart beating. Silence.

The first changed he noticed was the scent the air carried. It was vaguely familiar, but at the same time, it was unknown to him. Whiffs that entered his nostrils stung like that of when he opens a newly fermented wine, but it was sharper and more painful to the sinuses. Then it was the whispers that came. They were hushed, urgent, mixtures of authority and pleading voices were mixed unintelligible. Younghyun opened his eyes to white walls stretched from all directions. Phones rang briefly before someone answered it. The lights hang steadily from the ceiling glowing white, expanding the hallway further.

Younghyun stood amidst the traffic of people running back and forth, passing him as they ran from a station to rooms, carrying transparent bags that either carried fluids that are just transparent as it is, or blood. Everything was new to him in this place. But those details didn't interest him as much as the sight of the girl in front of him. He stared at her as she sat on the ground, blood dried and peeling off her hands which was covering her face in prayer. He reached out to her, caress her head, offer a little bit of comfort, but his hand passed her body. Her shoulders rose and sunk in a fast rhythm, in tune with her head, banging to the wall. Her voice kept, but her cries obvious. Unable to do anything, Younghyun watched. He watched as the last pillar of Aerin's world collapsed, and everything crumbled down and crushed her whole.

"You know better than to try and touch a memory, Hyun-ah." A shadow loomed from behind him.

"Hyung," he greeted without looking back. "you're here."

“You’ve gone deep this time, Younghyun. Real deep.” There was a sense of foreboding in his voice. He pats Younghyun’s shoulder as he moved to stand beside him. “How long has it been since we last saw each other?”

Younghyun nodded. He stood and faced the man he has not seen for years. “Yes. But if I were to pick, I'd rather see Dowoon's face than yours.”  
The man kicked Younghyun's knee. "Well, sorry but you're stuck with me." He hit Younghyun's back and led the way to the bench, just across from where the girl sat. "How you holding up?"

"I'm holding up fine, hyung" He answered while stealing glances back at the girl on his left. "The episodes are progressing as expected. I still have time."

"But you have never gone to see me this early before, have you?"

"No. But, I'm still in control. I feel, that I'm in control." Younghyun confirmed. "Sungjin-hyung, can I ask you a question?

Sungjin sighed and threw his back on the bench's backrest. "As long as it's not what you asked me the last time we met."

They both laughed.

"Am I doing things right?" Younghyun's gaze was still cemented on the girl on his left. "Or am I still stuck on just hoping that I can do this one differently?"

Sungjin was, the very first visitor he had when he first arrived in the library, the first friend he made. The first memory he cast solid in his heart. And therefore Sungjin knew everything. Everything about Younghyun, especially his life inside the library. But, there are things that even he couldn't answer. Things that knowledge, nor wisdom is incapable of answering. One of those things is Younghyun's fate with the library and the library's plans for its caretaker.

Younghyun stared at his palms. "I don’t want to live through that again."

"Younghyun, we never regretted what we did. If there's one thing that we wished didn't happen, was you blaming yourself for our decision." Sungjin sighed and slapped Younghyun's back gently. "We did it because we wanted to. Stop blaming yourself for things you can't control. You said that to the girl too. Yet, why can't you say it to yourself?"

"It’s different. I still did the deed. I still… with my own hands." Younghyun grimaced as the images of his friends flashed immediately, vividly in his mind.

Younghyun turned to look to Sungjin, but his friend wasn't paying attention to him anymore, his eyes were gazing to the direction he was stuck in earlier. "Younghyun." He called and pointed towards the girl on the wall. Younghyun turned to face the direction Sungjin was pointing to.

Right where he himself stood earlier was a woman, with long auburn hair that glistened iridescently against the light, who carried a striking resemblance to the girl in front of her. Just like Younghyun, she tried to reach out to Aerin, only for her effort to be wasted. Younghyun wanted to come closer, to the woman, to Aerin. But before he could even take a step forward, Sungjin pulled Younghyun forcefully towards himself.

“I told you. You know better than to touch a memory.” Sungjin sighed as he forced Younghyun back down on the bench. “I’ve been meaning to ask, you haven’t touched her soul yet, haven’t you? One touch, and you can view everything she has ever seen. Is that why you allow her to run around town instead, even in winter? To keep her away?”

“I’m doing the best I can to keep her safe.” The woman was now leveled with the girl. Despite her efforts being in vain, she continued reaching out to the girl, caressing her hair, whispering words that were too inaudible to the duo who watched.

“Are you though?” Sungjin asked in contempt which made Younghyun look back in disbelief. What did he mean by that? He screamed in his mind but before he could even try to speak it out he was jolted away, falling to the floor but there was no concrete to catch his fall. Only an endless abyss.

It ended as fast as it came. Younghyun was swept back right to where he left, to the phone, Aerin left to his care. He collected himself for a second before he answered the phone with the perfect excuse for his absence. And as he intended, Aerin believed what he said. Younghyun could hear the relief escape in her voice, and the loud thud that came after didn't escape his notice too. He felt guilty, sorry, for worrying Aerin. But also, he felt guilty and lost for feeling all these things.

When Aerin came that night and fell in his arms, he knew she was just another case for him to solve and archive. An entry he would write in his journal of visitors. Just another log. And a few nights ago, when she decided herself that she would leave, he thought that was the end, that finally, the entry in his log would come to an end, but she came back. And as much as he didn't want to, he was happy and thankful that she found her way back to the library. The horror that grasped his mind as he realized what emotion he was feeling as he saw her face haunted him.

But he didn't turn her away. He told her he wasn't angry when he was actually fuming inside. He told her it was okay to stay when he knew a hundred of reasons why it isn't. Younghyun could've done a lot of things to make Aerin leave, but he did none of those. He let her stay. He let her comeback. For what reason, he didn't know. He blamed it on the library and its powers instead.

Younghyun paid little attention to what she was talking about on the phone, or what he was saying in return. But instead, he focused on the way she talked, the way her voice changed pitch when she smiled, when her laugh would cut through her words, he focused on her. He didn't want to but he did. So when those girls came for her, he immediately knew she didn't want him to hear what was happening, the subtle shaking of her voice said it all. Younghyun contradicted himself a lot these days, this time too. Despite knowing that he shouldn't be eavesdropping, he couldn't find it himself to turn away.

He couldn't stomach it. Halfway through the call, he threw the phone gently, and safely on the couch. He paced at the doors, waiting for her to come in. And when she did, when she stepped inside the vestibule, making sure that the doors behind her were locked tight, Younghyun immediately rushed to her aid. She was bruised everywhere, She was hurt, and in pain. But the first thing she did was tell him she was fine.

If Younghyun could be honest to himself, it wasn’t Aerin’s bruises nor the blood that smeared her cheeks -- that bothered him. He saw her bathed in red the first day she came. It wasn’t even the way she said she was fine despite being outnumbered and beaten, leaving her face and body swelling. It was her eyes that stirred him. Her eyes that dulled even her brightest smile, her eyes that betrayed the happiest face she could muster. Younghyun was bothered by Aerin's eyes because just as he told him she believed she was fine, he also knew the truth that was made clear by the darkness held by her eyes.

"What are you thinking?" Aerin said in a whisper real close to his ears. Her breath hit the edges of his lobes, warming it gently.

"Nothing," Younghyun answered instantly, the warm air of the library enveloped them both as the door closed. She was trembling slightly, scared from his sudden gesture. He had carried her once, but it was when she was unconscious. But he had no choice, he wasn’t gonna let her rest in the vestibule in that cold.  
  
She chuckled weakly, "You think loudly, Younghyun. Your silence when you think screams loudly." she tightened her arms around Younghyun's shoulders. "I'm sorry. Sorry for making you hear such an awful thing."  
  
Younghyun let Aerin down gently on the sofa, right beside where he threw the phone earlier. Threatening to flick Aerin's forehead, but retreated when she flinched back from seeing his arm raised in aggression. "Rule number 1." He rested his palm on the top of her head. "I had the choice to end the call. I didn't. It was my decision."  
  
He pulled a basin from the table. "But thanks to that, I'm prepared to treat you." He dabbed the warm cloth on Aerin's cheeks first. As Younghyun washed away the dirt and the blood that dried, he noticed more scratches on her face, scars that were long forgotten, but were made too deep to be hidden. Younghyun didn't have a good look at Aerin's face until now. He knew about the scars on her neck, and the ones on her arms. But, that's all he knew. He could recall from memory the sight of her scars, but it was just at that moment he realized, he hasn't bothered remembering Aerin's features or her face at all.  
  
He listed them all silently, her long lashes, her thick yet perfectly shaped eyebrows, the dark circles under her eyes, the thin bridge of her nose, the way her lips curled on the edges even when she's not smiling. The one crooked bottom tooth that disarranged the whole row beautifully. Pretty, Younghyun kept that thought to himself alone."You have a lot of bruises on your face. You have a lot of untreated scars too." Younghyun wet the cloth again, squeezing out the blood and the dirt that stuck on the fibers. "Are you incapable of seeing your face in the mirror?" It was an attempt to a joke.  
  
Aerin shook her head. "I haven't." she touched her cheeks, scratching along the scar Younghyun just mentioned. "I can't really see my face in the mirror, or any reflection." She traced the obvious scars on her face.

"I didn't even know they existed." There was a sad longing in her eyes like she was guilty of not knowing that the scars were there carved on her skin.

Younghyun continued to clean her wounds, trying to hide the fact that Aerin didn't even notice his attempt to a joke. Instead, Younghyun grabbed one of Aerin's presents in a past excursion. "Band-Aid" that's what she called them. They were bandages that stuck on the skin on their own without the need of being tied. Younghyun was happily applying the bandages when Aerin let her body fall on the sofa with a soft thud.

"I'm tired." She said with her eyes closed. "I'm really, really tired."

"You should sleep." Younghyun took the basin now filled with pale red water. "I'll be just th-"

"Don't." Aerin pulled on Younghyun's shirt. "Please."

Without a word, Younghyun sat back on the floor. He placed the basin back on the table. “I won’t leave, so sleep.” He ordered.

Trusting him, she let go of her hold on his shirt. “I hate you.” She said under her breath.

Younghyun was taken aback by her sudden statement but made no protest against it.

With her eyes half-open, Aerin peeked at him. “I hate that you don’t ask questions. I hate how you openly accept every word I say. I hate that you treat my wounds without batting an eye. I hate that you could tell me words that I wanted to hear all these years like they were nothing. I hate that you know exactly when to appear in my thoughts or in reality. I hate that you always talk in riddles. I hate that you don’t tell me anything about you at all. I hate not knowing you Younghyun.”

“Argh-“ she groaned, “I hate that you make me say all these things. But most of all, I hate that I get so confused yet so clear-minded when it comes to you. I hate you, Younghyun. I hate that I don’t know you.”

Younghyun had turned his back against her. At first, he didn’t respond. He left Aerin’s words hanging in the space between them. What could he possibly say against them? Aerin’s words were true. He remembered what Sungjin had said to him earlier. Maybe his efforts of keeping her far are confusing her, and at the same time, him too.

"Younghyun?" Aerin was huddled like an infant. “Can I ask you favor?”

“What is it?”

Aerin felt embarrassed to say it at first. “Can you read me a story?”

Younghyun laughed a little. “Suddenly?” It was an expression someone he knew and met recently used. He looked over at Aerin, thinking that maybe she was kidding. Her trembling shoulders said otherwise. “I’ll go get one.”

With his back leaning against the sofa’s seat cushion, he started reading the leather bounded book he took from a drawer in his table. “This is a story about four animals and a fox they met in a cave…”

The air went very still as Younghyun continued reading. In it, Aerin searched for a glimpse of solace, but instead she found another deep well of sorrow.

When Younghyun finished, silence befell the library again. He closed the book with the sound of stretched leather. He placed the book safely on the coffee table and checked on Aerin. She was hugging her knees with her back poking outward. Younghyun was pulling a blanket over her when he noticed the beads of tears that travelled across her nose, down the opposite cheek and pooled on the cushion.

Younghyun smiled and cleared the hair off Aerin’s cheeks. She was pulled by his touch and in an almost drunken-like stupor she said, “Don’t leave the fox.” And then fell back to a exhaustion-induced sleep.

Younghyun couldn’t hold back his laughter. He found it silly how Aerin shed a tear or two for a fox in a fable when she could say with a smile on her face that she was fine even when she was beaten and kicked until she bled.

He placed his head gently on hers, kneeling on the floor to level with her. Her hair was still frozen from the cold air outside but the warmth that it radiated felt to him like spring had come. He stayed very still, he stayed longer than he intended to. Younghyun allowed himself to be confused once again.

“I'm sorry, Aerin. It's hard, isn't it? Dealing with me? I was nothing but scared and dishonest. Yet, you always faced me with sincerity. But I'm sorry Aerin, my past would be the last thing you need to know. It's better for the both of us." Younghyun gathered the basin and towels he used to treat Aerin and headed downstairs. He paused at the landing and studied the wooden sculptures sitting on each of their pedestals. With a smile on his face, he passed a hand over the sculptures before he vanished into one of the rooms on the main floor of the library.

Younghyun thought of the four animals and the four friends he modeled them to, how the bear, the chicken, the rabbit and the dog came to life, and how they all ceased to be. But that is a story, if not sugarcoated with a lie, is too tragic to hear.


	9. PAGE 8

_ **AERIN**_

Reading wasn't particularly a hobby I enjoyed.

It reminded me too much of what was and what could've been. My father, he was a voracious reader. I always liked it when both he and mom would enjoy an afternoon tea in silence with their faces buried in books. Bittersweet memories embedded in my mind. And it hurts to think that, before, I could still wish that these memories can be real once again. But now they're just, impossible dreams.

So whenever I stare at Younghyun, as he silently spends his time traveling in the written universe, I can't help but reminisce. It hurts, but I also can't stop. Somewhere deep inside me, hopes that as I stare, Younghyun would replace those imprints for me.

The still air of our town has frozen more since that incident near the river. And ever since then, my trips for Younghyun ended, as suddenly as he first suggested it. Spending the days in the library had made me more accustomed to the changes that happened daily. The wall that stretched from floor to the dome ceiling that once held the fireplace was now the home to a towering mirror that was covered with a velvet curtain, thick enough to cover everything.

Like before, I was adamantly warned never to look behind the curtain. "What could a mirror possibly do?" I asked, bewildered by his warning. But the look on Younghyun's face gave me an answer clear enough not to give a follow-through.

Just don't. His eyes seem to say. I don’t argue.

These days Younghyun and I spent my time here in the library as much as we can doing stuff together, but I've never felt more apart than we were before. The closer we sat with each other, the closer I felt to him, it felt like he was holding back stronger. But there are times when he catches me off guard.

One time, he was sitting on the couch while I sat on the floor. He was reading his fifth book that day (I'm astounded at how fast he read). And I spent my time trying to read the book he gave. Distracted by his presence. We were separated by the dark mahogany coffee table, our cups of tea steaming continuously. But even in this distance, I felt like we were seated side-by-side. My face burned a little. I was seated in an angle that perfectly captured Younghyun on the edge of my sight. He must've noticed the redness of my cheeks because for a second there, he closed his book and silently checked on me.

A gesture simple enough to make my heart race some beats up. I feel my face burn brighter. Younghyun was about to reach out to me when something caught my attention.

"Snow." I pointed out the window, just in time as visible frozen tears of the sky fell. "It's the first snow."

Younghyun and I silently agreed about moving the couch with its back touching the window sill. We jumped within the frame of the window and stared at the peaceful fall of snow outside.

"It's the first time." We said at the same time. Our eyes locked into each other before a laugh passed over the both of us. He gestured for me to explain first. I did, "It’s the first time I witnessed the first fall. I was always asleep when it came, which was rare in this town." I clenched my fist and offered it to Younghyun, like a reporter after a question in a broadcasted interview.

"It's the first time I saw snowfall this calmly." His statement puzzled me. Much like everything about him. Has the library only stopped in places with snowstorms? I've been talking with Younghyun long enough (now), that I know that the library doesn't have a permanent location. It pops out wherever it was needed.

"It's one of the reasons I won't go out too, even if there was a possibility that I could. I just don't know what's out there anymore. I won't know anyone, I don't know everything." He said those words so decisively that I was almost convinced. But his eyes betrayed them with the bright spark of longing it offered against the view. I keep quiet.

I rested my chin on my arms that was braced on the backrest of the couch. We continued to watch the snow in hushed silence. Younghyun being so close, felt like a huge clump was in my throat. I welcome the feeling, let myself drown in it. I can’t explain how, but these little moments with Younghyun felt fleeting. That if I lose grip of it even for just a moment, it would slip away. And so I welcome it, the overwhelming presence he gives, and even the sporadic tightening of my chest.

I pushed the thoughts deep in my mind and enjoyed my first snow with Younghyun. Would I be able to spend winter with him next year too? I caught myself ask. I wasn't used to this, planning ahead. Looking forward to the next year. It felt fresh and pleasant. I smiled. But that was also cut short when my breath got stuck in my lungs, again, when Younghyun reached over and cleared a group of wild hair off my cheeks, and tucked it behind my ear. I hear the screams of my heart pounding against my chest. I turned to him, stunned but poker-faced.

"Sorry," he said. His voice didn't sound sorry, though. "It was rare to see you smile. Does the snow make you that happy?"

_No_, I answered him in my head. _You do._ I don't say that to him, instead I just nod my head and smile at him.

I could still feel the lingering touch of his hand against my cheek, and the warmest gut-wrenching feeling that left me speechless. It’s a lie if I say I didn’t want that moment to last longer than it did. But I was glad it happened. Younghyun was buried back into a book, sitting wordlessly in his open office.

I took my phone from my pocket, just when Younghyun revealed a tad more face. A little secret project I've been doing. In a split second, I took the shot I wanted and buried the phone back down my pocket. One day, I would leave him these photos, printed and stored. A sign of my gratitude. I felt a hard flat object inside my bag. I almost jumped at the realization. I pulled the book from the mess of food, keys and emergency set of clothes (which may or may not be needed, you know, just in case).

The way he gazed from his book to me, made my heart clench a little. I handed him the book, "Thanks." I could only think of that word.

"Do you want to read another?" He asked, placing the book I returned on a wheeled-tray to his left.

I shook my head. "I think I've read enough to last me a lifetime."

"There's no such thing as that." He answered, his voice confident.

“The snow isn’t letting up today,” I say, observing the white wall of falling snow outside the window behind Younghyun. “It’s almost time for my dismissal.” I meant that as a joke.

Younghyun didn’t even try and hide the disdain in his face. I wish he did. I mean, a little consideration for my feelings wouldn't hurt, right? But Younghyun wasn't like that, he was blunt when he needed to be, hurtful if he must. As much as he is to everything he does, Younghyun was pretty great in setting up boundaries.

"Maybe it'll calm down in a while." I hoped and wished. Younghyun nodded.

It didn't. The weather actually went worse. So much that it felt like the winds were trying to escape the storm themselves, as they rattled the windows against their frames. I already had my backpack on, prepared to face the worst of the storm. I didn't want to overstay, not after seeing Younghyun's expression. I was just about to open the door after bidding my goodbye when Younghyun grabbed my arm.

"You're not heading out in that storm." He said resolutely.

It was hard to resist the smile forming in my lips. "That okay?"

He nodded. "It's not safe."

"Does that mean that the storm is more dangerous than the library?" I asked, not sure why.

Younghyun's face hardened, unsure. My mouth really had to run off. I wanted to hit myself. "I-"

"I was just kidding Younghyun." I tried, wishing that would save him.

He was doubtful. He studied my face like he always did when we were talking face-to-face. A trait I would've found eerie and creepy if it weren't for Younghyun. His gaze was sincere, innocent, and curious. Like he was trying to know me by the way I reacted. He settled with, "Okay."

The heat in the library rose and flickered almost like there was an open flame. But the wall still carried the hidden mirror. No fireplace could be seen anywhere. I lay on the sofa while Younghyun was pushing the tray along the floor and placing the books back where they originally were. I was bored out of my wits. The only ones celebrating right now are my emergency set of clothes that have escaped the confines of my backpack. I watched Younghyun until I couldn't bare my own inaction.

"Where does this go?" I ask as I fished out the next book on the pile from the cart.

"There." Younghyun pointed to a shelf just above my head. I picked out book after book, and as if we practiced this all along, Younghyun would point out where I should I put it immediately. We were in sync, like dancing to a music-less beat.

I grabbed the last book before Younghyun could, thinking I'd do him a favor. When Younghyun pointed out where it belonged, I instantly regretted my decision. It was on a shelf, two shelves higher than what I could reach. Embarrassed and determined, I refused to let the chance go. 'Touch-move' they called it in chess. I'll see this task through.

At first, Younghyun just watched as I struggled to reach the shelf, stepping into the remaining spaces of the lower shelves. I felt like Spiderman, as he climbed through building walls, but at least Spiderman had sticky or pointy (I don't know) sider feet as fingers. I only had a fool's determination to get me going. The shelf was almost perfectly in reach when - like in those cliché - I pathetically lost my footing.

Younghyun grabbed my waist, correcting my balance even before I could even start to fall to my spine injury. His hands clasped the small of my back and the edges of the bones on my hips. There was ringing in my ear. I placed the book hurriedly on the shelf and signaled Younghyun of my descent. I was about to apologize when he placed his palm on my head, and everything felt magically alright.

"Thanks." he praised.

"But," of course there's a but. "Don't do something you know is dangerous. You could've asked my help."

"You didn't stop me." It was the truth.

"I didn't want to betray your resolution. You looked really gung ho." He was smiling. The tension that darkened his expression lifting. It made me feel giddy, a good type of giddy.

"Hey, want to eat something?" I knew I was beaming. But I couldn't and didn't want to hide that. "I brought ingredients for a simple kimchi stew, I can cook while you rest."

Younghyun looked unconvinced for a moment. He always made sure I was in his eye-line whenever I stayed. And now that I'm past my allowable hours in the library, he's more alert than ever. "You know where the kitchen is, right?" He finally said, his brows gently creased.

I nodded. "Yes, and I'll go straight there." I was sure I'd do that. Younghyun told me about the possibilities of getting lost in the rooms. If I wasn't reading, I was listening to him and his stories. And for some reason, I never questioned Younghyun's tales about the library, there was something in his voice that held a wall of reassurance, and the way his eyes didn't waver as he narrates. He told me about the other rooms, a topic I won't deny I was dying to know about.

One particular story that creeped me out was the one from behind the door that faced the wall with the mirror (now, anyway). According to Younghyun, the room contained the endless storage of the library. "You didn't think this was all the books stored here, didn't you?"

He said that it was a maze down there, and even he, if he was not careful enough, would get lost and maybe, never find his way back. That sent chills down my spine. The thought of getting lost forever, dragging into an endless room with books upon books upon books. I wouldn't want that. And I'm quite sure that I wouldn't want that even when I wanted to go.

"No detours?" He asked, his eyes prepared to detect a lie.

"No detours," I assured him.

"Okay."

I ran back to the couch in the reading area where my bag spilled and gathered up all the ingredients. I skipped down the stairs, greeted the animal guardians on their pedestals, and breathed in the smell of dust and aged books as I hit the main hall. It was magical as the first time I stepped into its carpets. For a minute I stared up at the vaulted dome ceiling, it was like a throat that could swallow me whole.

I was just about to open the kitchen door when I heard a voice calling me, "Aerin?"

I felt electricity run across my skin. I've heard voices in the library, and as I spend more time here, I learned to ignore them. They were spirits, Younghyun explained. Nature spirits that were stuck inside the library, tending to the plants, the soil, and the books. But they have grown too familiar with the library, that they made a hobby of spooking non-spiritual beings in the library, even Younghyun himself.

But this voice was different. It sounded too familiar. I've heard voices in the library, but none of them ever called me by name. "Aerin?" it called again. I looked over my shoulder as a gust of wind fluttered the thick velvet curtain, showing a glimpse of what was hidden behind. It came from the mirror.

I know I promised Younghyun no detours, but I can’t resist the call. A feeling swelled in my gut, and I had to follow it or I’ll implode. I walked towards the mirror, every step - heavier than the last. Each breath sharper, more shallow.

When the mirror is just close enough for a perfect view, another gust blew the velvet curtain silently halfway off. My knees buckled as my eyes focused on the scene reflected in the surface. My legs were cushioned by the carpet as my whole weight shifted forward. The only sound that came out of me was a quick yelp, as my breath betrayed me. But in that millisecond of expressed sound, Younghyun found his way to my side. How I didn't know. One second he was pushing the cart back to his office (I could still make out the squeaking of the lose-screwed tire), and before the next even came he was already by my side. Like he jumped from the second floor to the main hall, without making a single sound.

He immediately draped the curtain back, covering the mirror again from view. But I've seen enough - no, I've seen more than I wanted. My voice betrayed me as he rushed back to meet my figure inching down to the ground. I leaned against his chest against my will. It was so still. When a little bit of my strength returned, I pushed Younghyun away with every bit of force I could muster.

I felt it again, in one glass full serving, the one emotion I thought I'd never feel again with Younghyun.

_Fear._

I kept crawling back, crawling away from where Younghyun kneeled unmoving, his eyes peering into me. His touch that earlier felt secure and safe, suddenly felt cold and threatening. But I knew it wasn't because of Younghyun. It was because-

The image from the mirror flashed back in my mind again, so clear and so real that it took a whole 10-breathless-second to stop myself from wailing. I clasped the hair above both of my ears. My gut was tucked tight against my knees, while my forehead felt hot as I rubbed and pounded it against the rug. _Stop,_ I commanded myself. _Stop remembering. We were good. We were good for a while now. Please. _

I felt like I was back in that cold room, that one night. I can feel the freezing floor on my back. Weight, much more than I can handle, pressed against my stomach pinning me down. And cold, cold hands - colder than everything else tonight grasped my neck while dead eyes locked on me. It felt so real. Too real, that I can feel everything coming back - the fear in my bones, the hunger of my lungs for air, the heat of my battle against friction as I fought to be free, and the sinking realization that I was going to die.

"Mom, no," I remembered saying, not realizing I was saying it out loud too. Everything around me vanished. I didn't even notice Younghyun, who kept calling my name, who was drowned in his worry for me but kept a safe distance as to not scare me further. Just like he did back then.

I was out of it until he grabbed me in between his arms and steadied my head on his chest. I thrashed and pushed and tried to fight my way off his embrace. But Younghyun held me tight, he held me close. And no matter how much I struggled, I was secured tightly in his embrace. I tried, almost every escape maneuver I learned throughout my life, but to no avail.

Younghyun and I were wriggling on the rug like slugs. I hit him whenever and wherever I can.

"It's okay, it's okay." He whispered repeatedly as if trying to lull the fear and pain away. "It's okay, it's okay."

His chest was damp with my tears and yet it was still and comforting. I fought less and less with each passing moment, until there we were, lying completely still in the middle of the hall. I was still crying. I never realized how bottomless my tear ducts would be. Younghyun still whispered above my head. "It's okay. It's okay."

I gripped his shirt on his waist. I tried to stop my shaking but it wouldn't. Younghyun's touch that I once longed for, now repelled me. But at the same time, I didn’t want to let go. I didn't want him to let me go.

I can feel his breath blowing strands of my hair away. I can hear his groans from the cry of his tired muscles that suffered against our awkward state. I tried to fill my head with everything that was Younghyun, all the relief, the joy, and the fear. I focused on him, and my deep, secret wanting of him. I felt my body calm down, but my heart still beats like it was amplified a hundred times. My tears stopped, but everything about me still wanted to wallow.

_We need to tell him._ A voice inside my head whispered, but this time I knew who it's from. Just me. _We need to tell somebody._

I waited for some more trying yo steady my bearings that have come askew as I gazed upon the mirror. It was no ordinary mirror, no - perhaps it was no mirror at all.

I sniffled one more cry before I finally was able to say, "I'm okay."

I gently pushed Younghyun away, thinking that he'd have loosened his embrace. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled me up my head now against arms, my forehead meeting his chin. One of his hands positioned me closer to his body, while the other messed my hair. After a while, I realized he was cuddling me. The me who before, would've been rattled, blushing in utter embarrassment. But I couldn't do that right now, the only emotion bubbling up inside of me was relief, comfort, and the validation that it was alright for me to feel pain and that I am no longer alone in facing it.

"You're not. But it's okay."

"Hyun-ah." I cried as I buried my face in the crook where his neck ended and his shoulders began. Using the nickname I endearingly wanted to call him when the time is right, and our relationship had grown closer - more like friends. But what I'm feeling now for Younghyun, I finally understand was not my needing him to be my friend. It was of me needing him completely, utterly. I'll tell him everything. Everything that happened that night, and what happened in the months afterward. I'll tell him now, as his embrace still gives me the strength to face the past, and to face… me.

"Younghyun, I have to tell you something." I pull away just enough so that my voice won't be muffled by his embrace. Younghyun looked me in the eye, waiting. "I-" _You can do it_. I cheered myself on.

"I killed them." Younghyun looked puzzled, but he didn't avert his gaze.

"I killed them. I killed my mother and the boyfriend who hurt her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just came here to say thanks to you who's reading this right now.  
This is my first time writing something like this.  
I wish you like it, and I wish you well.  
Thank you, thank you for reading this.


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